All of the Reasons Why
by independentalto
Summary: Of COURSE Fury would come up with a list of things the Avengers shouldn't do. And who would they be if they didn't do them? Everything that can and will happens. They snark. They drink. They...have object wars? Based off of skiddliebop's "They have rules?" One shots in no chronological order. Romanogers, Clintasha, Stony...I play with everything. But Pepperony. Always Pepperony.
1. Paintball wars on the Helicarrier

**Ummm...hi? And welcome? Anyways, to whoever's reading this, thanks, first of all. First fan fiction and I'm kind of nervous. I apologize in advance if anything isn't right. I hope I got it, though...**

**Secondly, I don't own any of this. If I did...yeah. No. I don't. Not even the list. That belongs to skiddliebop. You can go find the list there.**

**Last thing. I'm not going in order with these things. I'm really just going to inspire my muse. And there won't be a regular updating schedule. (If I even get that far haha.) Once a week I'll try, but sometimes there'll be one, or however many I've managed to write up that week. That providing there are people who follow this xD**

**That rigmarole being said, enjoy!**

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><p>1. Paintball wars on the Helicarrier.<p>

"I thought you said this that was definite?" Clint demanded.

"It is, but we have to capture surveillance before we can move in," Coulson explained. "It's going to take at least 24 hours before we can assert this threat, much less send in the Avengers,"

"So we're going to do nothing on this plane for a day?" Tony moaned.

"Or more," Coulson answered, walking out of the debriefing room.

"Well, this is just great," Clint moaned as soon as Coulson had walked out the door. "I could've been on a date,"

"You're not the only one," Steve and Natasha muttered simultaneously.

"What were you two going to do?" Tony snorted. "Go look at more still-life paintings?" The pair exchanged glances. He actually hadn't been that far off. Not that Tony had to know, of course.

"Personally, I'd rather shoot paint than look at it," Clint moaned, his head hitting the table.

"Paint...shooting...that's it! Barton, you're a genius!" Tony exclaimed.

Natasha snorted. "Well, that's news,"

"Do tell, Friend Stark," Thor enthused. "What is your concept for easing us out of this boredom?"

"No more Wipeout courses," Bruce warned. "Remember what happened last time?" There was a collective wince at the thought. Tony hadn't been able to move for a week.

"Nah, this is less painful," Tony shrugged. "Paintball wars!" Clint and Natasha let out a cheer, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, while Steve and Thor just looked confused.

"How is that any less painful, Tony?" Bruce asked, pained.

"Well-paintball-it's paintball. Better than hitting the floor from twenty feet up!" Tony gesticulated. Bruce cocked his head in a 'touché' gesture, and Tony leapt up. "Give me an hour, tops," he addressed the other Avengers. "Then, the war is on!" He then ran out, leaving a confused Steve and Thor in his wake.

"...someone want to explain to me what paintball is?" Steve asked confusedly. Bruce turned to him.

"Well, it's pretty much war. With paint bullets that aren't fatal,"

"Ah, a contest of strategy!" Thor exclaimed. "I am most accustomed to these. They occur quite often on Asgard!"

"Exactly," Clint agreed gleefully. "But if you're up against two assassins, Iron Man, and super soldier, don't expect to win do easily,"

"Is that a challenge, Friend Barton?" Thor queried forcefully.

"Why, Thor, I believe it is!"

* * *

><p>"Okay, Avengers, here's the rules," Tony was strutting like a proud kid on his birthday.<p>

"Ten points if you hit a recruit. Lose five if you hit someone that's already been hit. There are exactly 564 people on this thing-I made Brucie keep track. Fifteen points if you hit a new wall. Fifty points for Fury, forty for Hill, and thirty for Coulson. If someone hits you for the first time, that's sixty points, then forty, twenty, and nothing if you're last." He paused. "Any questions?"

Silence.

"Excellent," Tony distributed the weapons. "Everyone on this flying death trap has been instructed not to shower-and I've disabled them, just in case."

"I will be in an undisclosed location, recording stats," Bruce announced. "Don't try to shoot me or you will be dead faster than you can say 'Hulk'."

"That being said, pick your starting points," Tony grimly announced. "You've all got ten minutes,"

"Wait!" Clint yelled before everyone dispersed. "I have a bet with the Asgardian god. I'm _so_ acing this war. Anyone in?"

"I'll put fifty on Legolas," Tony wagered. "There's no way Point Break's pulling one over him."

"Same," Bruce agreed. "Sorry, Thor, but this is Clint we're talking about here. You don't stand a chance,"

"I think Thor could top the archer," Steve announced. "I'll put fifty on him,"

"Whatever floats your boat, Cap," Clint shrugged. "I'm still gonna win,"

* * *

><p>Thor was hidden at the entrance to the Helicarrier cafeteria. Surely Midguardians needed sustenance, he reasoned, and what better place to retrieve it? Also, if time permitted, perhaps he could get some Pop-Tarts before continuing with his mission.<p>

"Fall to the power of paint!" Thor leapt into the cafeteria brandishing his weapon. Recruits dived for cover as he fired royal purple paintballs everywhere, screaming as they were targeted.

Soon purple paint was everywhere, and not a single sound could be heard from the cafeteria's inhabitants. Thor, satisfied, sauntered over to the kitchen and grabbing a box of Pop-Tarts. Shooting paintballs was enough to make anyone hungry.

The silence was quickly broken by a ferocious Clint swinging in from the vents. "Die, agents, die!" He was so intent on scoring hits that he didn't notice that Thor had already covered the room. Nevertheless, he still scored a few hits-some Thor had not targeted, and the walls, which had been completely neglected. Cackling to himself, Clint swung back into the vents. Thor was seriously going to regret making that bet.

Still munching on his Pop-Tarts, Thor strolled out of the kitchen, the sight mildly astonishing him. SHIELD agents were cowering under tables, as he'd left them, but instead of his purple paint, they were covered in...black? Surely he'd had the right color!

"What sorcery hath changed the color of the paint I have covered you with?" he demanded.

"N-n-none, P-p-prince Odinson, sir," an agent stammered. "It w-was Agent B-b-Barton, sir,"

"Ah." Thor's face darkened. "Barton shall pay for this."

And with that, he stalked out of the room, leaving several agents to fear for their safety.

* * *

><p>As he crouched in the vents, Clint couldn't help giggling to himself. Not even ten minutes in he'd scored 500 points, tops. Thor was so screwed. Now. On to the next heavily populated area-the weapons room. Not only would there be lots of agents, one of the big winners was sure to be there. Maybe Fury, although it wasn't as likely as Hill or possibly Coulson-<p>

SPLAT.

A paintball whizzed past his head, making him jerk back. Who the hell would know he was in the vents?

His answer was provided when another paintball came at him, hitting squarely in the knee. Clint's reflexes kicked in and his knee shot out from beneath him, landing him on his ass with a solid THUMP. "Damn it!" he whined. "I've been hit!" Then considered his current predicament. "And been knocked flat on my ass,"

The only response was a sultry chuckle as the assailant slipped away. Clint glanced down at his knee, where there was _definitely _going to be a bruise in the coming days.

Red paint. Instantly, Clint's mind connected piece after piece of information. Thor was purple. Besides, the Asgardian prince was entirely too clumsy to get into the vents. Steve would've at least been more polite about it-but his was blue. Tony would've said a monologue complete with fireworks and orchestra. Which only left one person. Which, really, should've been Clint's assumption in the first place, given that she was the only one to even _possess _the ability to get into the vents.

Natasha was going down.

* * *

><p>Lunch break, Steve mused. Of course Tony would start a paintball war during lunch break. It was the perfect time to pick a spot and strategize. Knowing Clint, he would be in the rafters somewhere-Steve made a mental note to look up every now and then, lest he get blasted with black paint. Tony would be in the lab-it was his comfort zone. Most likely, he'd provide some intellect to the scientists there before shooting them. Which only left Thor and Natasha to watch out for. The former because he simply had no strategy, the latter because she was deadly, unpredictable, and extremely accurate. Plus, she'd threatened him with couch time should he win.<p>

At this moment, he was crouched under a table, waiting for the majority of agents to file back into the control room. Here, he reasoned, was the best chance to get Fury, or, at the very least, Coulson. Another solid five minutes passed before Steve concluded that, yes, fifty was a decent number, and began firing.

The effect was instantaneous. Agents dropped like flies, Steve having aimed for the backs of their knees. Some cursed as they tried to identify their assailant. Steve kept his firing intermittent, aiming for inconspicuous places. Anyone else would see only the head or body and assume they weren't hit, Steve figured. It would definitely cost them a lot of points.

Having incapacitated most of the agents in the area, Steve rolled out from under the table. Most of the agents' eyes went wide at the sight of their beloved Captain America holding a paintball gun. Some assumed he'd gone rogue and went into the fetal position, mumbling about their lives. Feeling sorry instantly, he began firing apologies off to anyone who would listen.

"Captain Rogers?"

Coulson's voice cut unexpected through the litany of apologies, alarming Steve. Instantly, Coulson was spattered head to toe in blue paint, leaving an entirely embarrassed super soldier and speechless agent.

"Agent Coulson, I'm so, so, so sorry about that-" Steve began to launch into another apology, but was cut off by Coulson's hand.

"I'm alright," he said faintly, sinking into a chair. "I. Just. Got shot. By. Captain. America. Holy."

"I think he's okay," an agent chuckled. "He's good, Captain Rogers,"

"Oh, alright-" The relief was palpable in Steve's voice.

"ROMANOFF!" Clint's angry voice could be heard in the hallways, and, soon enough, Natasha came racing into the control room, ducking behind a set of machines. Steve quickly ducked, avoiding detection. If he played his cards right, big points would be his.

Seeing no paint on any of the agents in the control room, Natasha began firing away, intensely taking down anyone she saw. Not soon after, Clint bounded in, red knee and all, incapacitating any agent not yet hit. His attention was soon refocused on the spy, however, and the two were soon exchanging paintballs.

It was an exhausting battle to watch. Every time Natasha would shoot, Clint would duck, and vice versa.

"Just what the hell is going on in-" Maria Hill stalked in, only to catch a faceful of black paint. "BARTON!" she fumed, whirling around to glare at him.

"FORTY POINTS ARE MINE, BITCHES!" Clint gloated. His victory was short-lived, however, as he was suddenly covered in blue paint. "What-"

"Not so smart now, are you, Barton-" Natasha's returning gloat was also cut short by a splatter of blue paint. "Rogers," she snarled. "Get out here, now," Her only response was a streak of blond hair as Steve sprinted past her. With a strangled scream, Natasha tore after him. "NO ONE PAINTBALLS ME AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!" Clint followed suit, and soon the trio was running through the Helicarrier's hallways. Every now and then, Natasha would attempt to squeeze a shot off at Steve, but he was simply too quick.

"BARTON!" Thor appeared, wielding his gun and covered in gold paint. Without hesitation, Natasha shot him, earning herself forty points. He resembled Tony's suit more than he did himself, she mused. It was a good look.

In retaliation, Thor focused his crossfire on her, but one flip and she was at the front of the pack. It was off to the weapons lab, where Tony would most likely be. Hiding, no doubt.

* * *

><p>Tony, in fact, <em>had <em>been hiding in the weapons lab-but he'd fallen asleep. Something about fatigue and over-reliance on caffeine...whatever it was Pepper had mentioned.

Suddenly, the door to the lab opened, and Natasha charged at him with a war cry, striking him repeatedly in the chest with paintballs. A shot each from Steve, Clint and Thor, and the canvas known as Tony's clothes was complete.

"My clothes," he gasped. Then glanced at his watch. "My Rolex!" He glared dramatically at the other Avengers, who were busy shooting each other. "THIS MEANS WAR!"

Grabbing a rolling chair, he pushed off from the wall, firing at everything he passed. Thor and Natasha looked shocked as they were bombarded with red paint, allowing Clint to shoot her with a whoop. Steve also managed to shoot Thor in an impressive 360° spin, before diving under a table to avoid being shot.

"What are all you motherfuckers doing that has my motherfucking agents covered in motherfucking paint?!" Fury stormed into the room to find each Avenger shooting at each other, with the occasional war cry from Clint or Tony.

The next few moments happened in an extreme slow motion.

Tony, who was still blindly firing in revenge for his watch and clothes, let off an impressive three paintballs in a second. All three splattered across Fury in quick succession, turning him from black to gold. Each Avenger went silent and turned to him, sensing the impending storm. The only things that could be heard was the sound of dripping paint.

Finally, Tony quipped, "Should I pay for dry cleaning, Director Fury?"

* * *

><p>"Well, there's good news and bad news," Bruce strolled into the meeting room later, where the Avengers had been grumpily corralled for the remainder of their time on the Helicarrier. He was carrying a large stack of papers, which landed on the table with a loud SMACK.<p>

"Give us the good news first," Tony groaned. He'd received quite the earful from Fury-he wasn't sure if his ears had stopped ringing yet.

"I've got the winner of the war," Every Avenger perked up at that, sure beyond a doubt that they'd won.

"Well," Clint stood up and stretched. "I'd like to thank the Academy, SHIELD of course, and the lovely Natasha Romanoff for having my back all these years..."

"Sit down, Barton," the spy snorted. "Five bucks says your score was massacred,"

"Barton, you have a total of 25 points," Bruce announced. Clint's jaw dropped to the ground.

"Pay up," Natasha held out a lazy hand. A five-dollar bill was reluctantly pressed in. "I bet it's only because you hit Hill, you dork,"

"But-but-" Clint began to get flustered. "In the cafeteria-I shot so many people!"

"You failed to notice that they had been marked, Friend Barton!" Thor proclaimed joyfully. "I had claim to them first!"

"Which means, if I remember, I get a hundred dollars," Steve smirked.

"Thor, you have 420 points. Not bad for fourth place," Bruce announced.

"These wars of paint are not so unsimilar to the wars of fruit on Asgard," Thor shrugged.

"Tin Man. Third place. 450 points," Tony sat back and grinned. Shooting Fury _and _beating Legolas and Point Break? All in all, not a bad day.

Natasha stood. "I think we can all just accept that I've won this thing, so I'd like to thank SHIELD, obviously-"

"It's not over until the fat lady sings," Clint mildly scolded. "Sit down, Tash,"

"Yeah, Tash," Tony mocked. "Sit down," She shot him the bird.

"Natasha. Second place. 520 points." Bruce sighed, knowing what was to come next.

"WHAT?!" Natasha's squawk rattled the rafters.

"So that means-" Tony began.

"No way-" Clint interrupted.

"I don't believe-" Thor.

"How the fuck did he-" Followed by a litany of Russian curses.

"I won?" Steve exclaimed. Bruce nodded.

"But HOW?!" Clint spluttered.

"Well, he shot Natasha, for starters," Bruce shrugged. "That takes skill." Natasha scowled. "He also shot all of the agents in the control room-"

"No wonder they were all on the ground when we got there," Clint facepalmed.

"Coulson was shot, too." As if on cue, Coulson ran by, shouting,

"I GOT PAINTBALLED BY CAPTAIN AMERICA!"

"The man didn't even shoot Fury," Tony seethed, "and yet he won?"

"Congrats, Steve," Bruce told the captain. "First place. 750 points,"

"Great," Clint muttered. "Not only do I get beaten by an old man who wasn't even around when paintballs were invented, said man happens to be my best friend's boyfriend."

"Anyhow. Bad news." Bruce returned to the subject at hand. "All of this paperwork is yours," Each Avenger slowly turned to the large stack of paperwork, classified into folders with their names on it.

"Черт," Natasha muttered. Steve just facepalmed.

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><p><strong>Hi again! Reviews are appreciated; constructive criticism is especially appreciated :) If you like what you're reading, follow! :)<strong>

**Oh. And. I ship Romanogers to no end, but some of these will call for Clintasha. **sad face****

**Ah, well. Onwards!**


	2. Tony and Musicals

**Just because I got a favorite. People are awesome :) To SuperWhoPotterAvenge-X. You officially made my day :D**

**I own nothing. Except the creative liberties that (hopefully) worked.**

**Romanogers is the ship unless otherwise stated. Just because I love them so much.**

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><p>20. Tony shall not be seeing any musicals<p>

_"Good morning Neeeeew Yoooorrk!" _Tony's pitchy voice filled the speakers of every room in the tower, causing a) Natasha to sleepily shoot the living crap out of it-even half asleep she was a perfect shot, b) Thor to halfheartedly throw Moljnir at offending object, effectively breaking it, and c) Bruce turning green enough that alarms were sounded, causing Tony to stop singing abruptly.

"I apologize for the...unexpected wake-up call," JARVIS apologized profusely after the performance had ended. "Miss Potts took Master Stark to see "Hairspray" last night, and I'm afraid he's become slightly... overenthusiastic about the performance numbers,"

"I thought hearing Tony singing the shower was scarring enough," Clint moaned, who'd lived through that experience once without any desire to go through it again. "I think my ears have started bleeding,"

"Miss Romanoff, should I arrange to have a new speaker installed in your room?"

"Not until Tony stops singing those goddamn musicals. I knew there was a reason I declined those missions. At least the opera's sort of depressing,"

"Remind me not to take you to Broadway anytime soon," Steve chuckled. She fixed him with a "you'd-better-not" look, and he put his hands up in surrender, giving her a kiss on the head before sliding out of their bed to make some much-needed coffee.

"And you, Agent Barton?"

"Nah, just deactivate 'em unless for an emergency. I don't feel like letting Stark into my room to replace any tech. I'd do the same for Bruce, too."

"Embodied voice of the residence, I wish to have my speakers removed," Thor sleepily boomed.

"As you wish, Master Odinson."

* * *

><p>"What's crack-a-lacking, dudes?" Tony slid into the kitchen wearing nothing on his feet but socks. "Isn't it a great day to be in New York? <em>Picture me, just another cool kid on the street, near the Park and the Met. Life is sweet, Yankees on the Bronx pretzels on the street, just how good can it get?" <em>

"I am so talking to Pepper about this," Bruce grumbled. "The next time she takes Tony to see a musical, it'd better be freaking _Les Mis,"_

"Hey, that one's actually kind of depressing," Steve turned to Natasha, who was in the process of perfecting her coffee. "Maybe we could see-"

"No."

"Aw, Capsicle, don't let her get you down! You know what, Pepper and I will take you to one. How 'bout _Guys and Dolls_? _Fame_? No, wait, I've got it. _Beauty and the Beast. _Y'know, Pep and I can get you the best tickets for any of those, all you have to do is ask-"

"Stark," Steve answered wearily, "I'm not going to see a musical with you,"

"But whyyyyyy?" Tony whined. "_There's only us, there's only this, forget regret, or life is yours to miss_!"

"Я кастрировать вас," Natasha muttered into her coffee. Clint choked into his, and had to leave the room for fear of cracking a joke that would lead to his death.

"Not even just one, man? I promise I won't sing through it or anything!"

"Are there _any _musicals you don't know the words to?" Bruce questioned. Clint, having sobered up, returned with his coffee.

"Not that I know of," he answered. "He sang all of them in between last night and this morning." He turned to Tony. "The vents aren't soundproof, man,"

"Miss Romanoff," JARVIS announced, "your new speaker has arrived. Should I direct the men as to where to place it?"

"No need, J. I'm on my way back anyways," Natasha snatched her mug and headed back to her bedroom. "I can just glare at them and they _should _be able to put it in the right place. Especially if Steve stands there with his shield in the corner,"

"You'd think they'd know to listen to us by now," Steve muttered, following her. "After what happened the last time,"

"_The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, I heard the laughter of her heart in every street cafe-_wait, Natashalie-my speaker-WHAT?!" The fact that Natasha and Steve were replacing a speaker finally registered in Tony's brain. "What happened to the old one?"

Steve paused. "It'd probably be best if you didn't know,"

"What?" Tony demanded. "What happened? Cap? Cap?! JARVIS, tell me what they did!"

"It appears that Miss Romanoff lodged several bullets into the body this morning, sir,"

"SEVERAL BULLETS?!" Tony shrieked. "HOW COULD YOU, YOU TWO?!"

"You sang, Tony," Clint answered in between gulps of coffee. "Believe it or not, you actually sound like Tasha when you sing."

A knife whizzed over Clint's head out of nowhere. It seems the Black Widow hadn't missed that comment. Steve's laughter could be heard all the way from their room.

"Don't make me bring up Budapest, Barton," was the muffled threat that came in reply.

"Then I'll kindly remind you about Tokyo!" he hollered back.

* * *

><p>"Tokyo? What happened in Tokyo?" Steve asked a glaring Natasha. She pointed to the corner, and three moving men scurried to set the supports for the giant replacement speaker.<p>

"It was an undercover mission," Natasha deadpanned. "Got mistaken for Selena Gomez, ended up having to film her music video, long story short, it's got 236 million views on YouTube,"

"And I thought you said you didn't do musicals,"

"And I don't," she answered sweetly through gritted teeth. "So don't ever try, or else your sketchbook may or may not go missing..."

Steve gulped. She was serious.

* * *

><p>"Shot my speaker," Tony muttered to himself, stalking out of the kitchen. "We'll see who has the last laugh,"<p>

* * *

><p>Tony's revenge didn't come until a week later.<p>

Steve was out on a mission, leaving Natasha alone in bed. It was only supposed to be a couple of nights, thank goodness, but the loss of his presence was still there. She'd almost fallen asleep when-

"_The hillllls are aliiiiiiiiiiive with the sound of muuuuuuuusic..." _Natasha's eyes widened as an astonishingly pitchy voice blared through her speakers. He wouldn't dare do this now. Especially when everyone in the tower knew how she got when Steve was on missions. But apparently, Tony felt like risking his life, for he sang on. "_Doe, a deer, a female deer, ray, a drop of golden suuuunnnnn..."_

* * *

><p>The next morning, Tony found himself in the local hospital, wearing one of his suits and surrounded by kids who<em> happened <em>to be huge fans of Iron Man.

"Stark and charity work?" Coulson smirked as he read the report later that day. "There's _got _to be a story behind that,"

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><p><strong>Reviews are appreciated! Please? I'll work in something for you if you do. And probably put up a new chapter in your honor :D <strong>


	3. Truth or Dare

**I don't own anything. If I did, Fury would have my head on a platter.**

**Romanogers shipping. Do I have to say that every time, or...?**

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><p>55. There will be no more games of Truth or Dare<p>

"Just one game!" Tony begged the team, who was perched on various couches in the common room. "I promise, it wouldn't even be that bad!"

"For the last time, Stark. No," Natasha only looked up from her book long enough to glare at him.

"Come on, Natashalie," Tony egged, knowing that the name would elicit some sort of response from her. "There's gotta be some juicy secret you haven't told us!" Both Steve and Clint raised an eyebrow at that-if there was one thing the spy revered, it was her secrets. Sometimes even feared them. And she would rather complete some ridiculous dare than air them out.

Natasha seemed to know that, too, for she gave Tony a withering glare in the hopes of discouraging him. When he didn't falter, she sighed, dog-earing her book. "Fine. _Just _this time,"

"YES!" Tony turned to high-five Clint, who simply stared at him.

"I do not understand the premise of this game," Thor announced. "Is this another Midgardian tradition in which I have yet to learn about?"

"It's not one of the fun ones, I can tell you that," Natasha sighed, rubbing her temples. She could already feel the migraine coming on.

"Don't listen to her!" Tony insisted. "She's a spy! Spies _hate _games like these,"

"Which is a fact that you should be aware of, Tony," Steve scolded him. "Have you ever considered _why _she hates these games?"

"Aww. Cute that you're stickin' up for Natashalie, but no." Tony shrugged. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with various alcohols and an empty wine bottle.

"Thor, my friend, the first thing you need to know about this game is that alcohol will always be needed to play it," Clint lectured, reaching for a few cans of beer.

"Yup. Second rule. If Clint needs a certain amount, I'll usually need double," Natasha added, reaching for the choice Russian vodka.

Steve sighed. "I'm going to be scarred for life, aren't I?"

"You won't be alone," Bruce agreed. "We're going to have to remember this forever,"

"I still do not understand," Thor proclaimed. "What exactly undermines this 'Truth' and 'Dare'?"

"The rules are simple, Point Break," Tony settled himself onto the floor, the others following suit. "Someone spins the bottle. Whoever it lands on gets asked 'truth or dare'. Answer accordingly, and then you spin the bottle," Thor nodded his assent, and the game began.

* * *

><p><strong>Clint<strong>

Him? Oh, great, _him_. And he hadn't even gotten the chance to get properly wasted. Oh, well. Better to slip his secrets now and know what he'd let go rather than wonder just what everyone was laughing at everytime they saw him.

But _Steve_? Did _Steve _have to spin the bottle, of all people? He was probably going to ask some stupid question about...something old-fashioned, for sure. He mentally prepared himself by swigging his drink, setting it down with a CLUNK. "Clint. Truth...or Dare?" There was more questioning in the question than there had to be.

He sighed. "Truth." Besides, how bad could it get?

"What's the girliest thing you've ever done?"

* * *

><p><strong>Tony <strong>

Well, hallelujah and pass the wine! Who would've thought the Captain had it in him? He'd almost spit out his drink at the look on Clint's face-but of course, this was a 1960 Domaine de la Romanee-Conti. Cost him seven grand. No way in hell any of that was going to waste.

Of course, Tony knew _exactly _what the answer was to Clint's question. The archer had once embarked on an 'emotional movie marathon', with movies such as 'The Notebook', 'E.T.', 'The Fault In Our Stars' and 'Titanic'. He'd claimed it was the answer to every question about relationships, Clint had locked himself in his room for a week, having his status posted as 'on a mission'. And okay. _Maybe _Tony had joined him for one or two movies. But only for 'The Notebook' and 'The Fault In Our Stars'. Just so he could _finally _understand why Pepper burst into tears whenever he mentioned the name Hazel. No, he certainly had not stayed for 'Titanic'. And definitely hadn't cried at it. No, siree.

"SomaybeIwatchedTheNotebook," Clint muttered. "AndET. AndTheFaultInOurStars. AndmaybeTitanic,"

"I thought you were all muscles and macho, Barton," Bruce struggled not to laugh.

"I didn't catch that," Steve said politely. "You're going to have to spit it out," Tony stifled a laugh. If he hadn't known better, he would've sworn Steve was purposely tormenting Barton.

"I watched 'The Notebook'," Clint spat out. "And a bunch of girly-cry movies. Okay?" He glared at Bruce and Natasha, who were extremely close to losing it. "Let's just play,"

* * *

><p><strong>Thor<strong>

This game was quite the Midgardian tradition, he mused. Insofar, he'd learned that Lady Natasha had once impersonated a horse (Thor hadn't exactly understood the circumstances,), Friend Stark had eaten a rabbit burger (Steve had had to explain the concept of a burger.), and, of course, Friend Barton's lapse in manliness. Thor considered that quite weak. If someone on Asgard had done something of the caliber, they would have been exiled quickly.

It was now his turn to spin the bottle. Careful not to exert his strength, the bottle was precariously spun. Ah, Friend Stark! How delightful this would be! "Friend Stark! Truth or dare?"

Stark had simply laughed, having consumed one too many alcoholic drinks. "Dare, of course, Point Break!" Thor was momentarily stunned.

"Eh...I have no knowledge on how to do these...dares,"

"Ooh, ooh, I'll do it for you!" Clint, equally intoxicated, seemed all-too-happy to acquiesce. He dramatically put a finger to his chin, pretending to think. "Stark," he said finally, "I dare you to film yourself in one of your suits singing Ariana Grande's 'Problem'," He turned to Thor. "You okay with that, good buddy?"

"It is a well-thought out dare, Friend Barton," Thor mused. "I do not have any recollection unto who this 'Ariana Grande' is,"

"Yeah, people talk about her a lot," Steve added. "Who is she?"

Clint chuckled, catching the murderous look on Natasha's face. "My advice, don't look her up when Tasha's around," Steve turned to see the look on his girlfriend's face, then nodded solemnly in agreement.

"I wish I was actually sober to see this," The spy swore, downing some more vodka.

"I don't," Clint swigged another beer. "You only live once," Bruce had left, presumably to get a camera.

"Which suit?" Tony mumbled, reaching for the whiskey, Clint having drunk all of the beer.

"You have more than one, Friend Stark?" Thor demanded. The choices on Midgard seemed to be endless!

"Just pick one," Steve buried his head in his hands.

"Alright," Tony unsteadily held his arm out for the latest Mark. As the suit assembled around him, Bruce returned with a camcorder. "Someone find me a karaoke track,"

"Done," Clint announced, fiddling with his phone. He walked over to the speakers in a remarkably straight line for someone so drunk. "In the system and ready to go,"

"Brucie, start the camera," Tony slurred.

* * *

><p><strong>Steve<strong>

He'd thought things were bad when Clint had announced the dare. Even worse when Bruce had showed up with the camera. But noooo-

"Hi. I'm Iron Man!" Tony exclaimed into the camera with a voice that could only be described as a kid's on sugar. Another facepalm was in order. While beer usually just left an ugly hangover for the billionaire, Steve knew, whiskey jazzed Tony right up and left for an even worse hangover. "Right now, I'm going to cover 'Problem'. As suggested by Legolas over here," Bruce panned over to Clint, who spastically waved.

"And in 3...2...1..." Clint flipped the switch. Steve sighed resignedly and reached for a beer. Natasha, taking pity on him, handed her vodka over with a knowing look. After all, if he was going to _try _to get drunk, might as well do it right...right?

* * *

><p><strong>Bruce<strong>

If he hadn't been holding the camera, he would've liked to have been somewhere very, very, _very _far away at this point. Tony was belting out all of the notes in a grand falsetto, with the occasional twerk thrown in. Steve was downing Natasha's vodka like a champ, although Bruce was sure that it had no effect on him. The woman in question was just lazily watching, her interest flickering between the impromptu video and her boyfriend's new interest in Russian vodka. Thor, enraptured, was bobbing along with the mutilated tune. Clint was growing more excited by the lyric, and by the end of the second chorus, it was plain to see why:

_Small money bettin' I'll be better off without you _

_ In no time I'll be forgettin' all about you_

_ Sayin' that you know it but I really really doubt you_

_ Understand my life is easier without you_

_ Iggy Iggy to biggie to be here stressin'_

_ I'm thinkin' I like the thought of you more than I love your presence_

_ And the best thing now is probably for you to exit_

_ I let you go_

_ Let you back_

_ I finally learned my lesson_

_ Ain't half steppin either you want it or you just playin'_

_ I'm listenin' to you can't believe the words that you're saying_

_ There's a million yous baby boo so don't be dumb_

_ I got ninety-nine problems but you won't be one_

Surprisingly enough, Tony rapped every single lyric on beat. Clint's mouth had fallen open, but had closed again when Tony had gone for the high notes. When he'd finished, he'd done a large, theatrical bow. "Subscribe!" With a wink and a point to the camera.

Bruce turned the camera off. Oh, if only he could get drunk...

* * *

><p><strong>Natasha<strong>

So far, so good.

She hadn't let slip any _huge _secrets (like how she'd totally fangirled over Steve before they'd been dating. Or that she spent her spare time baking. Clint and Tony would never let her hear the end of it. Who did they think made those awesome cupcakes, anyways? Pepper?). She'd chosen to do the dares instead, opting for some of the more risque ones. (Clint had tried to make her rap "Fancy" by Iggy Azalea, but one look and he'd succumbed, handing her a ukulele instead and daring her to sing "The Moon Song". She'd happily obliged to that one, causing Steve to blush and bury his head in his hands.)

But everything threatened to crash down right down on her with this spin of the bottle. The bottle spun dangerously close to her, but, in a last second of recognizance, spun to Tony.

"Stark," Clint rubbed his hands in glee. "Truth or Dare?"

"Gimme a dare!" Tony exclaimed. Clint spared a glance to Natasha, who just scowled. This wasn't going to turn out well, was it?

"Stark, I dare you to drink Tasha's vodka. All of it," To illustrate her protest, Natasha rasied her bottle and began drinking as quickly as possible, hangover in the morning be damned. No one, and she meant _no one _(with the exception of Steve. But then again, when was he _not _her exception?) was going to drink her vodka. Not unless they wanted to die. Painfully.

Tony, eager to complete the dare and blissfully unaware of her murderous intentions, drunkenly swiped the bottle out of her hand and drained what was left. Then, for good measure, stole the bottle she'd handed Steve and quaffed that as well.

There was a few tense beats of silence. Natasha sat in semi-shock, hardly believing what Tony had just done. He was _so _going to regret this in the morning. Tony, unaware of the impending situation, simply kept drinking.

Finally, she spoke in an incredibly calm voice that even had Steve scooching away. She'd make it up to him later, she decided. "Bruce,"

"Yes?" he echoed.

"You may or may not want to film the last minutes of Stark's life,"

Slowly, Bruce held up a camera and began recording.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Tony woke up in his bedroom with a hangover the size of Asgard, and a very, very, <em>very<em> irate Pepper Potts.

"You have three bruised ribs, a laceration on your forehead, a twisted ankle, and a busted elbow," she rapidly snapped. "Mind telling me what happened?" Tony searched for some sort of recollection, something, _anything_, that would tell him what happened the night before. Nothing came up.

"Ah. Good, Tony. You're awake," Bruce strolled him, looking fresh, chipper, and not the slightest bit hungover. At the look on Tony's face, he smirked. "Pepper told you, huh?"

"What happened, Brucie?" Tony rasped, then winced at the sound of his own voice.

"What _always _happens," he deadpanned. "You got wasted, let loose way too much information, and pissed off Natasha,"

"Again?" Pepper demanded. Comprehension then dawned on her face. "How many times have I told you guys _not _to play Truth or Dare? You _know _Nat hates Truth or Dare!"

At SHIELD headquarters, as a drunk Iron Man danced across the screen singing Ariana Grande, Phil Coulson asked himself the same question before heading to get the appropriate paperwork for these types of situations.

* * *

><p><strong>As always...read and review! Please? Give an author some joy before junior year crushes her like a bug...the offer of mentions still stands. Plus an hour with Cap's shield. Seriously.<strong>


	4. Harry Potter

**AANNNND THE SHIELD GOES TO SuperWhoPotterAvenge-X! Come on, Steve, it's not like you'll need it for this one anyways...you're more likely to need a wand...**

**Shoutout to marykatebooks for following! :)**

**And, as always, we're shipping Romanogers here.**

* * *

><p>11. Try to give everyone roles from Harry Potter<p>

**Clint**

_He was so going to hell for this. _

Clad in tattered robes, a cane strapped to his back, and a strap-on monocle attached to his face, he crawled along the vents of Avengers Tower, dead bent on pulling off the greatest role play prank over. Finally, he reached the designated vent. Stealthily lifting the cover off (after all, he _did _inhabit the vents for a reason,) and placing it next to him, he now had a bird's-eye view-no pun intended-of the sleeping quarters of the tower's resident soldier and spy.

_They looked so much cuter when they were sleeping, didn't they? _Mentally berating himself for that sentimental thought-he could leave those for Thor and his Pop-Tarts-Clint lowered his Stark-issued megaphone into the room. Silently clearing his throat. This was it. The next minute and a half would determine his life. Okay, maybe it wasn't _that _serious-who was he kidding? He was about to piss off _Natasha, _for heaven's sake. The Black Widow. The world's greatest assassin. Oh, was he screwed.

Yup, the next ninety seconds would _definitely_ determine whether he lived or not. He was totally going to hell for this. Oh, well. At least he would go out laughing.

"If I die," he silently whispered, "Bobbi gets everything,"

* * *

><p><strong>Natasha<strong>

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Instantly, she was up and at the ready, pistol already firing at the vents. Between each bullet she could hear the faint "Oh shit, oh shit, shitshitshitshit..." She stopped firing and squinted. Then, in a split decision, fired off once more, and Clint fell to the floor of her bedroom, in robes, cane, and a weird eye thing.

"Barton," The surname was pronounced quietly but threateningly enough to make anyone quake in their boots. "What. The. Hell."

"Ah, Ms. Weasley," Clint, always unabashed, stood up and dusted himself off. "Can't say I didn't expect this,"

She'd refocused her gun on him again. "Who the hell is-"

"STARRRRK!"

Steve came tearing into the bedroom, completely unaware of the stares he was getting from the archer and spy. She said nothing, only raised an eyebrow as the great Captain America barreled into the bathroom. One could only hope he didn't look where he wasn't supposed to.

"Potter!" Clint called to the now livid man in the bathroom. "You and Weasley, eh?" Slowly, Steve emerged from the bathroom, and it was only then that she got a good look at him. He was still handsome as ever, but this time in a...different way. Instead of his trademark blond, Steve's hair was now a jet-black color, rumpled and refusing to stay down. She squinted. Was that a _scar _on his forehead?

"Anyways, you two, let me know when you plan your engagement," Clint was blabbering. "Best that I start planning my retirement at that point, who _knows _what could happen with the spawn of a Weasley and a Potter-" He was cut off by the voice of an irate billionaire a few floors up.

"BARTON! WHY IS MY HAIR RED?"

* * *

><p>"I feel it is wise to wonder of my appearance," Thor commented, later in the communal kitchen. "Why is it that I sport a long, scraggly beard that encompasses my head, and seem to be twice my height? Also, what is with this umbrella?"<p>

"Your wand got snapped in half when you were in your third year," Clint answered matter-of-factly, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "All of your magic is in your umbrella. Not that you can do much, anyways,"

Tony hadn't said anything since they'd all met each other in the kitchen. It was assumed he was still getting over the shock of his hair being akin to that of a carrot's. The occasional sob emerged every now and again, but most of the time he was left alone.

"Oh get _over _it, Weasley," Clint rolled his eyes. "It's just your stupid-"

Natasha had plunked down her coffee mug faster than you could say 'spilled'. "I am _so not-_"

"Nah. You two aren't bonded in holy matrimony," Clint dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Weren't you listening earlier?"

"I was deciding whether to kill you or not," she moodily mumbled, picking up her coffee to inhale once again.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

An angry Pepper Potts stalked into the kitchen, bushy brown hair close to crackling. Thor let out a small snort of laughter, quickly reigning it in at her glare. "If this is another one of your so-called pranks, Tony, then I swear-"

"Pep. Not now," Tony half-wailed. "My hangover hurts, my coffee sucks, and my hair. Is. RED!" All of this was uttered with Tony's head still half-buried in his arms at the kitchen island.

"Huh. So it wasn't you," She raised an eyebrow towards Steve's black hair and scar, Natasha's now long and straight (but still red) tresses, Clint's bizarre getup, and lastly, Thor's beard. There was a large possibility of having insects in it.

There was a small recoil from the beard. It really did smell.

"Hey, wait a minute. Where's-?" Steve was cut off by a multitude of chirps. Each Avenger fished out their phone, Tony with some reluctance, and proceeded to read the following email (albeit with some difficulty from Steve and Thor).

_Avengers:_

_Myself and Agents Hill and Coulson would like to know the meaning of this_

_ immediately. _

_Director Fury_

Attached were three pictures: one each of Fury, Hill, and Coulson. Each hero's eyes went wide as they tried to process what they were seeing. Fury looked more African than anything, regal and proud, and utterly peculiar with his eye patch, which had once looked familiar. Coulson hadn't looked much different, only more blonde, and his features schooled into a more innocent visage. Clint burst out laughing as he saw that Coulson had been holding a camera.

"Looks like Coulson's even more of a fanboy now," Tony snickered, having forgotten about his horribly red hair.

"At least his hair still gets to be normal," Pepper muttered, then reconsidered her statement. "Or. At least he had hair." That seemed to set Tony off, for he buried his head in his hands again.

But Thor couldn't stop staring at his phone.

"Thor?" Pepper asked tentatively. "Is everything alright?"

"L-la-lady Hill," Thor stammered. "It appears she's gone quite mad!" Everyone else referenced the email to see what he was talking about. Surely enough, there was Hill, only she looked completely... old. Her hair was still in its trademark severe bun, only with hints of gray. Wrinkles and facial marks were present in the plenty. Moles, freckles... everything. And she did _not_ look happy.

"Kingsley, McGonagall, and Colin Creevey, " Clint chuckled under his breath. "And may I say that all worked out perfectly, "

"You'll be next, Mudbloods!" They all spun around to find...a blonde Loki?

"AHHHHH! IT BURNS!" Tony faked-cried, cringing.

"Oh, please, Weasley," Loki retorted. "Have you even_ looked _in the mirror lately? Oh, wait, I forgot, your family _doesn't own one,"_

"...Weasley...?" Pepper echoed, looking back and forth between Natasha and Tony. The redheaded spy in question chugged more coffee in response, as if denying the connection.

"So." Bruce's voice was tinged with a slight amount of amusement as he walked into the kitchen. "I gotta say, Clint, you really hit the nail on the head with this one. Who'd you get to help you, Loki?"

"Loki?" the man in question snarled. "My name is _Draco Malfoy, _you filthy half-breed. My father will hear about this!" And with that, he stopped from the kitchen, muttering curses like "half-breed" and "Damn Mad-Eye".

"I'll take that as a yes," Bruce smirked, reaching for a mug. Surveying the various Avengers, his smirk grew into a chuckle. "Even got our ships, huh?"

"Please don't tell me-" Natasha's voice was sarcastically desperate. Bruce looked between her and Tony, then to Steve, and shook his head. She sighed in relief, and continued to guzzle her coffee as if nothing had happened. Without a word, Steve slid his mug over to her, which she picked up and began to down.

"Potter and Weasley, check." He nodded towards Steve and Natasha. "Weasley and Granger, check. Vain Weasley and smart Granger, double-check. Granger having to put up with Weasley, triple check,"

"Hey!" Tony muffled.

"It's true," Bruce shrugged. "Coulson as fanboy, excellent and accurate choice. Fury as Kingsley. Kingsley's still cooler."

"Hell hath nothing like Fury scorned," Clint joked, earning an eye roll from Pepper.

"And Hill as McGonagall? Rather fitting...Thor, my friend, you are accurate on so many levels I don't even know where to begin,"

"How 'bout by telling us _what the hell is going on_, and WHY MY HAIR IS RED?!" Tony yelped.

"...and why Thor has a beard the length of Midgard, why Clint's dressed like a hobo, and _why my hair is bushy," _Pepper threatened. Evidently, she hadn't taken it well, either. She was just better at hiding it than Tony.

"I'm Mad-Eye Moody," Clint defended. "I'm _supposed _to look ragged. It's part of my attire,"

"Hate to break it to you, but you don't look too great yourself, Bruce," Natasha answered nonchalantly.

"Course not," Bruce shrugged. "I'm a werewolf. And a member of the Order,"

"What the hell is the Order?" Tony demanded. "And why. Is. My. Hair. Red?!"

"Seriously? None of you have ever read _Harry Potter?_" Bruce asked in disbelief.

Several blank stares.

And so that was how, a week later, each Avenger woke up with a locked door and a complete box set of _Harry Potter. _Clint and Bruce were determined not to let anyone out until they'd finished the entire series, and had formulated some sort of opinion on whether Severus Snape was indeed a hero or a villain.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews make my day! Don't let this writer be crushed..provide something? Winner gets an Invisibility Cloak to dye Nat's suit pink! (Because we all know we want to.)<strong>


	5. Practice Target Dummies

**Two days of junior year down! And...you know..178 to go. I'm already in danger of failing physics. If only I had Bruce...or Tony. I NEED TO PASS THIS CLASS. **

**Shoutout to my newbies! Evie McPhey, sass-mistress-lucifer, 1998, bonnybblue, and beverlie4055. Thanks so much! :)**

**And to SuperPotterAvenge-X. Your reviews are like mine whenever I review stuff. You are **_**so **_**awesome for that. :D I'm giving you that bottle of pink dye and the Invisibility Cloak-just make sure you blame Tony, 'kay?**

**Last thing. I swear. Although it pains me to say this, our resident ship here is Clintasha. *cries* I had to. Steve can't shoot for his life. At least, not like Clint. Anyways. Onwards!**

* * *

><p>41. Teammates are not target practice dummies.<p>

"Jesus, Tash. You really can't shoot for shit, can you?"

Natasha looked up to see Clint hanging out of a vent, watching interestedly as she finagled with a bow and arrow. Her previous shots were scattered all over the training room, some sticking out of various targets, the sparring mats, and the lone flyer embedded in Steve's punching bag, its beans slowly spilling out.

"And yet you continued to ask me why I preferred .22s," she stated flatly.

"Because I didn't think the infamous Black Widow was actually _bad _at something," he teased back. A knife was thrown up at the vent with deadly accuracy, missing Clint's head by an inch.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she passively remarked, with the slightest undertones of a threat that made Clint bite back his next remark.

Instead, he dropped out of the vent. "Here. I'll help you." Picking up his own practice bow from a corner of the room, he came to stand next to her. "Take your stance." She immediately complied, notching an arrow into the bow, feet apart and ready.

Clint spied the problem immediately. "You're too tense," he instructed. "Tilt the bow to the right a bit so that the arrows won't fall." He notched his own arrow in example. When the completely clueless spy (how often did that happen?) dropped another arrow in tilting the bow too far, he put his arms around her in an effort to fix that. "Just _slightly _to the right...there." Noticing that her grip was off, he covered her hand in his to adjust that as well. "You only need two fingers on the string, Tash. Yup. There we go. Now, pull back-gently!-"

"We teaching the way of the bow and arrow, Legolas?" Tony appeared at the door of the room, supposedly on a reprieve from his lab. He waggled his eyebrows at the pair's compromising position. The implication was so obvious it would've taken someone as innocent as Steve to miss it.

"Shut it, Stark," Natasha growled, and Tony put his hands up in surrender, laughing.

"Alright, alright!" he exclaimed, then winked at Clint. "But just let me know if we're having baby assassins running around anytime soon." He ducked as Natasha whirled around to fire at him, her shot going way over his head and embedding itself in the doorway.

"Clint, how many times have I told you not to shoot at Tony-oh. Ma'am," Steve stopped short at the entrance to the training room and blushed at the sight of Clint and Natasha together. "Am-am I interrupting something?"

"No," Natasha grumbled, lowering her bow. "Clint's just teaching me to shoot,"

"And man, I'm telling you, she's so bad at it that even-" Clint's laugh was cut off as another arrow was point at him, this time without any doubt that Natasha would score a hit.

"Couch time, Barton," was all she said. "Couch time," Clint swallowed audibly.

"Oookay," Steve announced. "I'm just going to back out slowly and pretend none of this ever happened..." He was doing just that when he caught sight of the shot punching bag. He froze. _"My punching bag!"_

Clint winced. "Yeah, Cap...sorry 'bout that..." Steve left the room, palpably distressed.

"And now that we've managed to scar our good captain for life, let's go back to the lesson," Natasha brought up another arrow, squinting at the target. "Don't squint at the target, Tash. It throws off your perception of the target,"

"But I always squint when I shoot!" she whined.

"Who's the archer here?"

She huffed in defeat. "You are,"

"Exactly. Open your eyes, babe," Clint shot her a cheeky grin, knowing she hated the nickname. "Relax..." He placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling them relax instantly. "Deep breath, and...shoot."

The arrow landed right in the target's center, much to their surprise as well as Thor's, who had entered.

"Lady Romanoff!" he exclaimed. "I did not know you possessed knowledge of the bow and arrow!"

"I didn't," she admitted. "Clint just taught me,"

"Friend Barton!" Thor enthusiastically turned to him. "Perhaps you are able to instruct me as well?" Clint paled at that-he really had no desire to get up close and personal with Thor-and archery required a _lot _of close instruction.

Natasha chuckled. "I'm not sure he could handle it, Thor," she offered. "Why don't I teach you instead?"

Clint's face grew even paler, lightening to almost white. "Just-just don't break the practice arrows,"

"Clint can help us, can't he?" she challenged the archer, turning towards him with a wicked glint in her green eyes. "He'll show me where I'm going wrong, _won't you, Clint?" _With the look on his girlfriend's face and Thor's puppy dog look, Clint had no choice but to give in.

"Fine," he announced, then turned no Natasha. "But I am not touching him...under any circumstances,"

* * *

><p>An hour later, Thor and Natasha were shooting almost as accurately as-dare they say it-Clint.<p>

"I think it's time to up this to the next level, Thor," Natasha said, neatly sending an arrow into the center of a target as Clint looked on in horror.

"I agree, Lady Romanoff," Thor answered, shooting another arrow into his designated target. "I propose some type of contest,"

"Plungers," Clint muttered faintly. It was the first word he'd uttered since the spy and god had completely devastated his reputation as an archer. "Whoever hits the most teammates in an hour wins." Natasha and Thor looked at each other and shrugged.

"Fine by me," she answered.

"I shall go prepare for this contest!" Thor happily declared, sauntering out of the room. Natasha turned to Clint.

"Any idea on where to get all these plungers?"

"Tony once bought a bunch trying to make a plunger gun," Clint answered dully. "They should be down in storage,"

"Aw, is somebunny upset that I destroyed their weputation?" she mocked, jumping onto his back. "'Cause you know, I learned everything I needed to know from my teacher,"

"You're just saying that so I won't bet against you," he smirked.

"Why in the world would you bet against me?" She had an adorable pout, Clint observed. It really was quite a shame he didn't get to see it more often. "You're mine,"

"Not until you say it," he grinned. "Repeat after me: 'Clint, you're my boyfriend.' It's honestly not that hard, Nat."

"In your dreams." She slid off of his back and headed out of the training room. "You're going to regret not supporting me," she warned.

Clint chuckled to himself. "I don't think so,"

* * *

><p><em>Sometimes Tony really could be a handful, <em>Bruce thought as he headed to the kitchen. The billionaire had recently discovered that his entire stash of plungers had gone missing, prompting a search of the entire tower. The panicked, frantic way Tony was looking would've made one think it was his own kids he was looking for.

The man in question skidded into the kitchen as Bruce calmly poured himself a cup of tea. "Have you seen the plungers, Brucie?"

SQUISH.

A plunger sailed in between the two of them, attaching itself to the kitchen cabinet. Another quickly followed, this time nearly missing Bruce's mug.

"Huh. Looks like I found them," Tony mused, walking over to examine them. "Two of 'em, at least. Which I guess is better than none, I suppose, given that-"

SPLUQSH. The rest of Tony's sentence was muffled as his face was covered with a black and red plunger. Somewhere, they heard a quiet cheer of "Headshot!"

"I _swear _I heard Stark start talking and then shut up, just like that-" Clint came into the kitchen, stopping at the plunger protruding from Tony's face. "Guess it's started, then,"

"_What's _started, Barton?" Tony had managed to pull the plunger off with a large squelch, although leaving a large red circle on his face. "And why are my children-I mean plungers-involved?"

Clint was spared an answer as another plunger, this time red and gold, hit him in the back, causing him to double over.

"I have hit Friend Barton!" There was no mistaking Thor's voice. Where it'd come from remained to be seen. Clint wriggled, trying to dislodge the plunger to no avail. He scowled at Tony.

"Stark, why can't I get the damn thing off?"

"You must have one of the super grippy ones," Tony answered dismissively. An _oof _could be heard as a plunger hit him in the stomach. No matter how much he pulled, the projectile would not come off. "...And it looks like I do too,"

"Why have there been plungers all over the tower?" Steve queried, joining them. "They're following me everywhere I go," A plunger flew past his head. "Point made."

"War," Clint rolled his eyes. The eye roll was answered with a knocking plunger to the back of his head, red and black in all its glory. "And some of them, according to Stark, don't come off,"

"War?" Bruce raised an eyebrow at him.

"...so maybe I taught Nat how to shoot a bow," he defended. "And maybe she taught Thor."

"There's a war," Steve began, "between Thor and Ms. Romanoff based on their _archery _skills?" He received a plunger to the back of the head. Clint nodded, not trusting his tongue. Natasha could've been anywhere. One slip and he would have a plunger to the face. Steve tugged experimentally at the plunger on the back of his head, frowning when it refused to come off. "I'm going to guess yes...are we target practice dummies?"

"15 MINUTES!" Clint hollered into thin air. Instantly, the air was thick with plungers. Red, black and gold were simply blurs as they began to hit various surfaces.

"Well, I'm sure as hell not going to make it easy for them," Tony, ever the show-off, called a suit to him, while Steve simply nodded and began to expertly dodge the shots. Bruce just shook his head and took cover under the refuge of the kitchen island. The sounds of the repulsors soon filled the air as Tony regretfully blasted his precious plungers to pieces.

Clint, on the other hand, climbed straight up into the vents, where he knew he'd find his girlfriend. _And unlike her, he had no problem applying labels. _He found her crouched at a vent opening, continually shooting plungers every which way. Between the constant squelching of the plungers, Tony's repulsors, and Thor's war cries, Natasha never saw him coming.

"MOTHER RUSSIA!"

Natasha, truly and honestly startled, jumped and fell out of the vent with a yelp, knocking the air out of her as she landed on her back. It was the first time she'd ever been scared like that, and the shock on her face was so comical Clint burst out laughing. Add in a plunger hit from Thor, and he was close to falling out of the vent himself.

Now on the floor, Natasha aimed a plunger up at the vents. No one had _ever _gotten the drop on her. The Red Room had made sure of that. And now she'd been topped by her immature archer boyfriend? Not on her watch. The rubber red and black missile hit Clint right in the face, and he'd fallen out of the vent with a yelp quite similar to hers. In one fluid move, she rolled to the left, leaving Clint to hit the floor, drew an arrow (she'd stolen one from his nest stashes,) and shot Tony in the right butt cheek.

"I'VE BEEN SHOT IN THE ASS!" Tony yelped, sending off a stray repulsor beam. There was instantly a gaping hole in the kitchen wall, which no one paid any attention to. Thor took the opportunity to let off several shots in glee, causing more misguided defense attempts, blasting the couch, shattering a window, and blowing up the kitchen island, exposing a dumbfounded Bruce, mug halfway to his lips.

Natasha looked over at Clint, who was still defeatedly lying on the floor, plunger attached to his face. "Don't even think about getting into bed tonight, _babe_," she quipped, tweaking the plunger. A muffled groan could be heard in response. "Or for the next week,"

"Ooh, someone's been sent to the doghouse!" Tony drawled in a falsetto, fending off Thor's assault.

Natasha simply buried another arrow into his left butt cheek.

"I'VE BEEN DOUBLY SHOT!" he shrieked girlishly, shooting off another beam. The beam went through the shattered window, causing each Avenger to turn in shock as the beam collided with Grand Central Station, the glass windows caving in.

Silence.

Thor was the first to speak. "I believe the victory is mine?" Tony, and Steve looked themselves over. Thor's red and gold plungers could hardly be seen through the sea of red and black ones.

"I think this one's Natasha's, buddy," Bruce answered just as Steve's cell phone rang. The god's shoulders slumped as the soldier fished out the contraption, pressing the TALK button.

"Steve Rogers,"

"Would you care to tell me why the commuters at Grand Central are cowering in fear of the possibility of ANOTHER Chitauri attack?!" Nick Fury's enraged voice rang out from the speaker.

Wordlessly, Steve handed the phone to Tony.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews? Please? I can't believe I'm reduced to begging! Junior year, you suck. And it's only been two days! Best one gets Tony's plunger blueprints! (Because clearly, they're awesome.) And no. 'More please!' is not eligible for any story prizes I give out. But reviews still make my day! Especially good ones :D<strong>


	6. Bruce and Taylor Swift Songs

**I'm aliivveeee! Barely by the skin of my teeth, though. It seems like everyone in my AP Physics class gets it but me. It's not that I don't get the physics (at least I think) it's that I have a mental block with the thinking of the physics and me. I can't THINK out the physics. Or do algebra. Also, the teacher is absolutely satanic. And I took an AP Lit test today, so we'll see how that went... I've seriously considered dropping French at least three times this week. **

**I've decided that the update days will be Friday, just because they're a good release of my creative juices and because fanfiction is like my reward for making it through a week. So at least it's regular! :D**

**Shoutout to ugaddan, Libbytheblackcat (be prepared for physics questions! I've determined I'm drowning in physics D:) and Reyna G. Daughter of Bellona! (Hope that the Captasha doesn't deter you! I will have more Clintasha, I promise.)**

**Our ship here-Romanogers. I'm working on expanding my skills in terms of ships, so...**

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><p>A sleepy god of mischief stumbled into the kitchen one morning, fully intent on finding sustenance to fuel his sleepy cells. Steve, being the only sentient being awake, casually looked up from his paper with a "Morning." Loki nodded in response, and reached out a hand in search of the coffee grounds.<p>

Clint was next to stumble in, his walk being more of a sleepy plod as he opened the fridge and shuffled around for the milk. There was no comment-Clint had the habit of spending late nights up with Bobbi Morse, and Steve had learned (along with several prods from Natasha) not to say anything.

There was a slight _ding _from the coffee machine as it finished brewing, Loki immediately held his mug under the spout, his conscious growing with the level of coffee in his cup. In his journey from the brewer to the island, a small amount spilled from his mug to the floor, but was infinitesimal enough that it wouldn't be noticed.

"Good weather we're having this morning," Steve commented.

"Weather?" Clint grumbled. "I haven't even looked out of the window yet. Weather, my ass,"

"That's cause you're still struggling to walk," Loki sniggered. Clint swiped at him, which the god nimbly dodged by slipping off of his stool.

He almost would've made it...had he not slipped on the small puddle of coffee on the floor.

A shocked look on his pale features, Loki fell in slow motion, reaching out a hand to find any sort of support. He found it in the form of the coffee machine; unfortunately, it wasn't a means of permanent support, for he crashed to the ground, taking the coffee machine with him.

Steve and Clint (who'd stifled a yawn) looked down at the god, who was now sprawled out on the tile, machine parts and coffee all over him.

"I give this five minutes," Clint announced, slipping off of the chair. "Yell if you need me."

"I heard a noise, what's going-IS THAT MY COFFEE MACHINE?!" Tony stumbled into the kitchen, half-asleep, but instantly jolted awake at the sight of Loki on the floor with his beloved coffee maker. The god barely managed a nod in response. Several emotions crossed over Tony's face in the span of a few moments, including shock, anger, sadness, and finally settled on dramatic despair.

"Capsicle." he stated. "I'd clear the area. I don't need any witnesses." Steve just rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, still reading his paper. Tony then launched himself at Loki, tackling him to the floor. In between blows, he grunted, "You-broke-my-coffee-machine-THAT WAS AN ORIGINAL!"

Loki couldn't say anything besides "Barton..."

"I don't care," Tony snarled, planting himself over Loki's chest. "That was my goddamn coffee machine. I _made _the little shit," Loki let out a huff as Tony sat on him, unwilling to get up.

"Well. I knew it," Bruce proclaimed as he walked into the kitchen. Seeing the billionaire planted on the chest of the dazed god, he shook his head and went to make himself a cup of tea. "I always knew it,"

"Knew what?!" Tony and Loki demanded in unison. "KNEW WHAT?!" But Bruce said nothing, only took his mug and exited the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Loki's back was still aching as he plopped onto the couch later that day. Tony had planted himself on Loki for a total of two hours, even going so far as to refer to him as his 'human chair'.Well, there was no way Loki would've stood for that. He had automatically whacked Tony upside the head for that comment, sparking another round of fight that he was sure neither of them had recovered from.<p>

"No, Steve, I'm telling you, you _have _to watch this movie. It's the holy grail of Scarlett Johansson movies." Steve and Natasha entered, Natasha with her back to Loki as she passionately argued with Steve.

"I just don't think it's an honest representation of her acting. And plus, a movie where the guy falls in love with his computer? The present scares me enough already. I don't want to be scared of the future!" Steve complained.

"But Steeeeevveee-" Natasha was now full-on whining. "Pleeeeease? Pepper's been talking about this movie for months!"

"So watch it with Maria?"

"You know how Hill gets with sappy movies! She won't stop complaining for days! Please, Steve?" she begged. "Tony refuses to watch it with me and Clint's gone off somewhere with Bobbi,"

"As if they actually leave his room," Steve muttered. "You'd think they'd at least _try _to act normal."

"Says the super soldier who spends his nights armed with a drawing pad," Loki snorted, smirking as the duo jumped. Well, mainly Steve. Natasha may or may not have been startled-it was too hard to tell.

"What do you want, Loki?" she snarled with a deadpan, irritated that her argument had been disrupted.

"I can't simply inquire to the habits of some old friends?" he drawled, lazily spread out on the couch.

"I wouldn't call it _friends,_" Steve began. "Tony gets very territorial about his coffee machines,"

"It was a coffee machine," Loki scoffed. "It's not like it was, say, a genuine black leather double .22 holster with intricately carved designs..." Natasha's eyes grew wide, and her fists clenched threateningly. Loki, realizing that _maybe _he'd said a bit too much, scrambled off of the couch, backing up as Natasha stalked towards him.

"You did _what _to my holsters?!" she demanded, poisonously glaring at him.

Loki put his hands up in protest. "It was an honest mistake!" he protested, as the spy began to shake in anger. "It resembles a snake-it really does!" he added hurriedly as she produced one of her many knives from her person. "Thor wouldn't stop whimpering at the sight of it, the man absolutely _insisting _that it moved when I wasn't concentrating my gaze on it-"

"I. Don't. Fucking. Care," Natasha pressed the blade to his throat. "That double holster was a present from Steve. I want it back. _Capische?" _The trickster nodded, and she released him, her disdain for him exponentially multiplying.

"You will get your beloved possession back, Romanoff," he told her as she stalked off, a confused Steve following her. "But honestly, it was pretty ugly," he muttered under his breath. Then yelled as a knife pinned his coat to the wall. "Hey!" Another knife.

"You forget that I have a boyfriend with enhanced hearing," Natasha informed him, neatly sending another knife at him, this time above his head. "LOKI'S BEING USED FOR TARGET PRACTICE, IF ANYONE'S INTERESTED," she hollered into the general vicinity. Clint was the first to respond, dropping out of the nearest vent with a quiver full of arrows.

"I heard 'Loki' and 'target practice'," he said, then glanced at the pinned god. "Aw, come on, Tash. You started without me?"

"He destroyed my holster," she answered through gritted teeth.

"You are officially an idiot," Clint said to Loki. "Tasha's holster? Really? You might as well have dyed her suit pink and replaced all of her bullets with rubber ones,"

A sheepish grin formed on Loki's face as Natasha made a mad dash for her room.

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><p>A half hour later, Bruce came into the living area to find Loki in a pink Black Widow suit, various knives and arrows surrounding the area around him. Natasha and Clint were taking turns shooting at Loki. Clint, having run out of arrows about five minutes prior, was testing his luck with Natasha's rubber bullets. Tony and Steve were raptly watching the contest, cheering whenever Loki flinched at a near miss.<p>

"You didn't even have to walk in, Loki, and I still knew it," The scientist shook his head at the god's distress.

"Knew what?" Steve questioned as Clint ricocheted a bullet off of one of Natasha's knives already buried in the wall.

"Damn it!"

"Stick to arrows, Barton," Natasha smirked, shooting Loki in the knee. His knee jerked, tearing the coat.

"TEN POINTS!" Tony cheered, doing a drunk imitation of a touchdown dance.

"And Stark's inebriated. In case you didn't know," Steve rolled his eyes. Bruce just sighed and left, only passing Loki as he departed.

"I'm telling you, Loki. I knew it."

"WHAT IS IT THAT YOU KNOW, BANNER-OW!" Clint had just nabbed him in the stomach.

But Bruce just shook his head and walked out. Loki lunged for him, only to hear the distressing _rrriiip _of his coat as he landed face first on the ground.

Tony regarded the prone god. "Can I sit on him again?"

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><p>BAM. BAM. BAM.<p>

"Can't shoot a .22," Clint muttered to himself, letting off three more rounds at a practice dummy. "I'll show Tasha who's the better marksman."

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Still trying to salvage your pride, Barton?" Steve entered the training room.

"There's nothing to be salvaged," Clint answered tersely. "I'm just as good a shot as she is-just not with those damn rubber bullets."

"Well." Steve paused. "I just came to tell you Pepper's scheduled some sort of gala for tonight. We have to be prepped by 6:30. _Why _she didn't tell us earlier, I don't know..."

"Really?" Clint muttered as he took off his goggles. "And pray tell, we don't have to dress up, do we?" Clint hated monkey suits more than anything. They made it impossible to hide anything on the person, much less any necessary weapons.

"Tie required," Steve answered lightly before exiting. Clint let out a sigh of frustration, blindly firing at the target once again.

Surprisingly, he hit the target seven out of seven times.

"Knew it was the rubber bullets."

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><p>"Alright, where's Barton?" Tony demanded later that night, as all of the Avengers had gathered in the main lobby. He looked dashing as usual, in a crisp black suit that hid all signs of his intoxication. He pulled at his bowtie, clearly uncomfortable with the choice. "I thought I told you to tell him, Rogers."<p>

"I did," Steve was clad in a suit similar to Tony's, only in a shade of gray that brought out his piercing blue eyes. Unlike the billionaire, however, he was wearing an actual tie-one, they were more preferable, and two, Tony had flat-out refused to wear what he called 'the masters of strangulation'.

"Second only to Natashalie, of course," he'd winked, for which she'd delivered a blistering eye roll at him. It had taken Pepper a good ten minutes to convince Tony to wear the bow tie, and a collective sigh of relief was heard when the two had finally reached a decision.

"Well, if he doesn't show up soon, he's going to have to walk there, and-" Pepper was cut off by a vent opening and Clint poking his head out. He looked absolutely disheveled, yet still devastatingly handsome in a navy suit and black tie. Indignation was etched onto his face.

"Alright, which one of you little fuckers did it?" he demanded. Despite their contrasting finery, identical looks of confusion were mirrored on each Avenger's face.

"Did what?" Bruce questioned the archer.

"This," Clint snarled harshly, dropping something from the vent. Each Avenger gathered around said object, raising their eyebrows. "This happened to _all of my arrows."_

Natasha gasped in mock indignation. "_Oh my gosh, Clint, who would do that to you?"_

"You would," he retorted.

"Think about where _I_ was all afternoon." Natasha gestured to her getup, a short, spaghetti-strapped black dress with glitzy rhinestones swirling up the sides in a wide-striped pattern, studded with the occasional large stone. Her red hair gently touched her shoulders, the occasional tendril escaping. "Do you _think _I had time to do this _and _screw with your precious arrows?"

"I'll attest to that." Pepper grumbled. "You know how hard it was to peel her off of Steve?"

"Hey!"

"It's true."

"Well? Stark?" Clint glared at him.

"What? Me?" Tony asked, feigning hurt. "Legolas, I just spent the majority of my afternoon arguing with my girlfriend-who looks absolutely gorgeous, by the way," he added, as Pepper dropped a curtsy and smirked. "-about a _tie. _Trust me, if I'd had time to screw with your arrows, I would've."

"Then who did it?!"

"Did you enjoy your broken arrows, bird boy?" Loki's voice smirked from the elevator. "I must say, breaking the one labeled 'Almost killed Tash' was a nice touch, wasn't it?" Natasha sucked in a breath. _Now _she knew why Clint was so upset.

"He still has it," she whispered to Steve, who looked utterly confused. "He'd had the arrow all ready to shoot and everything, and he just-he just didn't,"

"Thank God he didn't," Steve rumbled, pulling her against him. "I would hate to think how I would've turned out,"

"Utterly alone, I suppose," she smirked, fitting herself into his grasp. "Maybe at some point you would've asked out Hill,"

"Ew." His nose crinkled. "She's with Director Fury." She giggled at that, and his arm tightened around her. Clint, meanwhile, had been stormily glaring at the smug god.

"You'll pay for this," In a blur, Clint had dropped out from the vent and sent a flying kick at Loki, drop-kicking him to the tiled floor. Blow after blow rained down on him, and each hero had to admire the way Clint managed not to get a single blood spatter on his suit.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but _damn, _I'm good!" Bruce exclaimed. "Loki just keeps proving me right time and time again. 'Cause I just knew it."

"KNEW WHAT?!" Tony, Clint and Loki echoed. Bruce took a beat of silence for dramatic effect.

"I _knew _you were trouble when you walked in." Clint stopped beating up Loki long enough to process the reference, and when he did, he was off on a nonstop laughing streak. Even Pepper, who had managed to remain stoic throughout the entire ordeal, couldn't help letting out a snort. Tony, of course, was also on the ground, giggling to himself in circles. Only Steve and Natasha remained, a puzzled look on his face, while hers contained an arched eyebrow.

"I'm confused," he told her, and she fluidly shrugged.

"Nothing you really needed to get," she answered. "I told you about Taylor Swift. It's from her song 'I Knew You Were Trouble'. 'Bout a guy named Harry Styles that she claims knew was trouble when he walked in,"

"You compare me to an EX-BOYFRIEND?" Loki demanded, surging to his feet.

"Why, yes. Yes I did," Bruce calmly answered before turning to Pepper. "Sorry about the suit in advance." His eyes flashed green, muscles began to bulge, and soon enough, the Hulk towered over the party. Clint and Tony stopped laughing long enough to scoot into a corner, where laughter turned into wide-eyed anticipation of what the Hulk would do next.

In great imitation of what he'd done in the battle of New York, the Hulk picked up Loki by his feet and whipped him back and forth, allowing him to slam into the floor before whipping him in the other direction. "HULK SMASH GOD."

Clint and Tony looked notably impressed.

In the end, Loki was lying in a depression in the tiled floor, cracks spider-webbing around his person. "Ow," he winced. Then felt something crack. "Ow."

In a final gesture of insult, Tony sat upon him again. "Ow." Loki groaned as the breath _whooshed _out of him. The Hulk slowly shrunk to a smirking Bruce.

"And aren't you lying on the cold, hard ground," he mocked. Pepper's mouth formed a silent 'o' in shock, most likely at the fact that Bruce-_Bruce,_ of all people!-had just made a Taylor Swift reference.

"Okay, guys, chop chop, we've got to get going-" Phil Coulson strolled into the lobby, periwinkle suit slightly askew, and stopped at the scene of destruction before him. "I'll just be getting the paperwork, then," he faltered, before turning on his heel and heading out the door he'd entered in.

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><p><strong>Review please? They would really make my day! And week. And my life. Really. Best review gets Nat's holster! After, you know, it's been stolen and not at all in any danger of being found by Nat! If you love it, follow the story! :D<strong>

**And a last shout out to ozhawk, who really is just AWESOME. Go read 'Through A Glass Darkly'; it's the best story EVER. We're collaborating on this awesome plot that started out as a plot bunny, and...yeah! I'm really excited about it hehehehehe...**


	7. Coulson's Captain America Trading Cards

**Another week! Just got a 39 on physics, so that's...well..expected. But that's life. But that's three weeks down...how many more do we have left?**

**Shoutouts to HerzeY, Queen Martha Pond, Death-Sama01 and souleater953 for following! I haven't seen any reviews. Please? They make feel oh so lonely. Is it because there's no rewards?**

**Well. Queen Martha Pond gets Nat's holsters, anyways. That was the only review. There was a lot of work involved for those! *shudders at the state of Nat's room* **

**Our ship: NO ONE! hehehe, everyone's single. Except Pepperony. Always Pepperony.**

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><p>19. No one is allowed to steal Coulson's Captain America trading cards (said person will get killed)<p>

"Those had better not be what I think those are," The seemingly innocent cards were laid out across the lab desk in all of their glory, in absolute mint condition, minus some fraying around the edges from Tony's manhandling.

"What, Coulson's security blanket?" Tony snorted, not even looking up from whatever project he'd been working on. "'Course they are, Brucie,"

Bruce picked up the revered Captain America trading cards gingerly. "You know he's going to kill you once he finds out you have them, right?"

"Please. The man needs to grow up," Tony dismissed. "Plus, he spends so much time on his little bus he hardly checks his locker."

"And you two spend so much time in here that you failed to notice the meeting started fifteen minutes ago," drawled a silky voice from the doorway. The two men turned to see Natasha and Pepper in its entrance, one casually leaning against the wall checking her manicure, the other with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed in a threatening glare.

"Natashalie," Tony acknowledged, then gulped. "Pep." In that moment, Bruce decided, it was harder to tell which one of the two women was scarier. "What's going on in his meeting again?"

"Well, Phil's back," Pepper answered, while Bruce sent a pointed look at Tony. "We're reviewing the rules of things that should and should not happen while he's gone. _Again_."

"Oh, you mean like turning my hair red and allowing Natashalie to go against Point Break in a plunger war that destroyed Grand Central?" Tony asked innocently. Natasha scowled at him.

"I won that war. I _will _use those skills on you if I have to."

"My hair was red for a week. A WEEK. Do you know how bad that was?"

"Not as bad as a pissed Fury is going to be," Natasha answered, checking her watch with a flick of her wrist. "Which you'll have to endure in five minutes should you fail to get your asses in gear,"

Bruce sighed. "Do I _have _to go? You remember what happened last time, don't you?" Tony, at the last meeting, had been so exhausted that he'd fallen asleep on Bruce, leaving the scientist to stay seated for an extra two hours following the meeting in fear of waking the sleep-deprived billionaire.

Pepper sighed. "Unfortunately, I do. Which is why-" She glared at Tony. "-Tony's had at least eight hours of sleep, _haven't you, Tony?_"

"Of-of course I have!" Tony stuttered. Bruce and Natasha rolled their eyes in unison. Hell was more likely to freeze over rather than Tony Stark get a good night's rest.

"While I'd love to stay here and psychoanalyze Tony's sleep patterns," Natasha drawled, "we have a meeting to get to. So. Stark, you can either come quietly, or you can come by force," Bruce resignedly began to trudge out the door, while Pepper looked two seconds away from getting a rope and dragging her stubborn boyfriend all the way to the meeting.

The CEO's eyes met the spy's. "Plan B?"

"Plan B." Instantly, Natasha had tackled Tony, knocking him unconscious with her Widow's Bites. Without mercy, she picked him up by one arm and began to drag him towards the doorway. "I could do this all day. JARVIS, take a couple of shots for posterity?"

"Already done, Miss Romanoff."

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><p>Tony came to about five minutes into the meeting, awakening with a "Wha...? Shaken, not stirred."<p>

"Welcome to America, Tin Man," Clint snorted. "Nice of you to join us,"

"Anyways, as I was saying," Coulson continued as if nothing had happened. "We're still doing damage control on the plunger war. So, Agent Barton, please refrain from teaching any of the Avengers archery-"

"Phil! Good to see ya!" Tony mumbled, not quite fully awake. "Excellent trading cards you've got, by the way," Coulson froze, and Tony quickly realized his mistake. "N-n-not that I've seen them, Phil, of course I haven't seen them, so how would I even know that-? You know what, weren't you saying something about Legolas and shooting plungers?"

Coulson gave him a long look, but continued. "The Black Widow's video is still circulating from last time, so, Agent Romanoff, also refrain from anything concerning a ukelele and Karen O..."

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><p>"Why did you have to say something?" Bruce hissed at Tony later in the hallway. "He's giong to be on our tails now!"<p>

"I wasn't fully awake," Tony grumbled. "I gotta get rid of 'em."

"Damn right you'd better."

* * *

><p>He <em>really <em>needed to stop pulling all-nighters.

Bruce groaned as he picked his face up off of his clipboard. But really-Thor needed to stop destroying walls whenever he wanted a Pop-Tart. _Ugh, there was nothing worse than peeling papers off of your cheek._ One report, two lab reports, Barton's baseline tests, trading card...

He froze. Trading card?

Bruce looked down in horror to see Coulson's beloved trading cards taped to a clipboard. Attached to them was a Post-It note from Tony that read, 'Sorry Brucie. Had to get rid of 'em before Coulson busted my ass. -Tony' He hated to think what would happen to him should Coulson find out he had the precious trading cards. Or, more likely, who would die.

Two things needed to happen. One, Stark needed payback for this, and two, someone _else _needed to get the cards, and stat. Bruce carefully peeled the cards off of his clipboard, mind whirring. He hadn't been the ones who'd stolen them, but he'd be damned if he damaged them.

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><p>Clint awoke with a stiff neck, cramped leg, and the dry feeling of vent air washing over his slightly ajar mouth. Yup. He'd fallen asleep in the vents...<em>again<em>. It'd been like this for a few days now. Ever since Tony had decided to leave a box of spiders in Clint's suite, the archer had been spending his nights in the metal sanctuaries. He wasn't going to question why it'd been a box of black widow spiders (there'd already been several afternoons where he and Natasha had brutally proved to Tony their lack of relationship,) he wasn't going to question where said spiders had come from...

...and he certainly wasn't going to question why Coulson's Captain America trading cards were taped to the vent walls. Despite the constantly flowing air, a light sheen of sweat broke out across Clint's forehead. Every SHIELD agent knew how dedicated Coulson was to the superhero. It was the number one office discussion-barring speculationns on Maria and Fury, or the pool on when 'Black Hawk' would finally become a thing. (He and Natasha had been planning an epic strikeback which involved embarrassing footage of the biggest better. Nat had been all for killing them, but he'd refused.) Taking the cards was equal to an act of treason. With about the same consequences. They had to go. But who to blame it on...?

Steve would get forgiven. The man was freaking Captain America! Tony wouldn't have been so obvious about it, and given his slipup at the meeting, it was most likely he'd already had posession of them. Which meant that at some point, Bruce had had them as well. He really only had one choice. It wasn't a choice he had to like, but...

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><p>Still scowling to herself, Natasha stormed into her apartment, nearly destroying her lock in her three attempts to get it open. It'd been an awful day-men hitting on her in that godawful HQ meeting, having to skip lunch <em>because <em>of said meeting, accidentally walking in on Fury and Maria (that could've gone without seeing,)...

BOOM! A sudden noise emanated from her vent. Her scowl deepened. There wasn't any question to who that was.

"BARTON!" she hollered, on the verge of shooting at it. Not that it would have been the only thing she'd shot today. In response, a solitary card floated down from the vent's opening. Curiosity kicking in, Natasha stepped carefully over to the card, emerald eyes widening in shock as she processed its image.

Well, shit.

Coulson's Captain America trading cards. Clint had already fled the vents hurriedly, if the loud squeaking was anything to go by. With a sigh, Natasha bent to pick up the rest of the cards, which had fluttered to the ground. She may have been the Black Widow, but an angry Coulson was no match for anyone.

There was a knock on the door. "Agent Romanoff?"

Oh, was she _screwed. _

She quickly slid the cards in between the pages of a magazine sitting on her coffee table. "It's open!"

Phil Coulson stepped in, a furrow clear on his face. "I need to ask you a very important question,"

Natasha rearranged her features so that they resembled her Widow facade more than anything. "I should think so, otherwise you wouldn't be here, would you?" He simply quirked an eyebrow at her before pressing on.

"You haven't seen my Captain America trading cards by any chance?"

Her eyebrow was quirked at him in response. "Did you _really _think I'd steal your trading cards, Agent Coulson?"

"Yes, well..." Coulson shifted from one foot to the other, discomfort clear as he sweated in his impeccable black suit. Natasha allowed herself a small smirk of satisfaction. While she was slightly afraid of rabid-fanboy Coulson (not that she'd allow anyone to know), it was nice to know he was _constantly _scared of her. "I just thought, since you were the only one stealthy enough to get past the cameras and genius enough to break into my locker..."

_So does Tony, _she echoed in her thoughts. "I take that as a compliment, Agent Coulson." She turned away from him to her granite countertop, beginning to sort through her mail; a sign that the conversation was over. "Be rest assured, it wasn't me." _Try Stark if you really want to get somewhere._

Coulson said nothing, simply exited her apartment with the grace of a top SHIELD agent. A grace that didn't last very long, Natasha observed, for she heard Thor's panicked yelling out in the communal room. "It was not I who took your cards, Son of Coul!"

_Tony, Tony, Tony, _she thought sardonically. Slipup at the meeting? Having the ability to break into Coulson's locker and disable the cameras? All signs pointed to the egotistical billionaire. And _boy,_ was he going to pay.

* * *

><p>"Sir, I've picked up on something you may wish to see," JARVIS alerted Tony later that day.<p>

Tony glanced up from his latest experiment-a high tech sword made to look like Excalibur-maybe Thor could use it-and addressed the omniscient AI. "What's up, J?"

"It seems that your suits have been tampered with, sir,"

"WHAT?!" Instantly, Tony was alert and heading at full tilt to his suit storage. When he reached it, he almost fainted at the sight he saw.

Each and every one of Tony's suits had been destroyed in some way, shape or form-one riddled with bullets, shot by arrows, and at the very least, completely bedazzled. His growing horror mounted with each ruined Iron Man suit. Finally, he got to the last one, his sinking suspicion quickly realized as he saw the Captain America trading cards taped to a silly-stringed suit. Along with the scuffed cards, there a was a hastily scrawled Post-It note.

'_This is why you don't steal Coulson's trading cards', _it read. _'By the way, he's on his way down now. -Natasha'_

"Shit! Natashalie!" Tony panicked, his life flashing before his eyes. Being abandoned by his father, meeting Pepper, being rejected for the Avengers' Initiative...never mind. His life hadn't been full of great memories anyways.

"STAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRK!"

That was the last word Tony heard before everything ceased to imprint itself into his concious memory.

* * *

><p>"He stole Coulson's trading cards?" Fury asked later that day, as a resigned Steve dragged a severely injured Tony into the medical bay.<p>

Steve could only nod.

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><p><strong>Reviews pretty please? Best one gets said trading cards and the chance to bash Tony's suits!<strong>

**Props to ozhawk for the Excalibur thing-go check out 'Through A Glass Darkly' to get it.**

**Oh, and I found this adorable Chibi plot of CATWS. :D Check it out if you have time. It's the background to my phone screen and I get the feels every time I see the 'This my hubband' part xD**

** photos/104048375131879653290/albums/6061245712874649601/6061245712903134418**


	8. Clint and Family Guy

**This has been the WORST week. EVER. But at the very least, I got around to watching Agents of SHIELD. Pretty good record for this week. I had to go to a football game that our team _lost_ (but then again nothing else is new) and it was freezing, and I was tired, and my friends and I were slowly losing our mentalities...**

**Shoutout to Music1nTim3, Chardineno, Pikapegasus (who I absolutely LOVE by the way :D), RynNightShade, Hela Lokisdottir, and Jessica - of Loki's Army for following! (Wow. That may or may not be a record.) **

**Best review ties in for eternal stars 5 (who suggested I have all of the Avengers camp out in the wild, I might do that soon hehehehe :D), Anon (you really should get an account! I'd love to write that chapter with you! But I'm also taking your prompt :D), I Am Iron Man (I'll take prompts! Make an account and PM me! I'll try to bring in Bucky, too...if it brings you back haha) and Pikapegasus (STOP DYING WE NEED TO WRITE HAHA)! All of you can go bash Tony's suits, I'm sure Pepper will let you in xD**

**EVERYONE'S SINGLE HERE MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHA...**

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><p>83. Clint Is Not to Sing <em>Bird Is the Word<em>

"Someone. Quick. Hide the _Family Guy_ DVDs!" Tony came skidding into the Avengers common room.

"Why should we do that?" Natasha, perched precariously on the couch, raised an eyebrow at him.

"What is this guy of a family?" Thor inquired. "Friend Barton has tried to educate me before on this, I feel..."

"It's not so much a _what, _it's more of a _who_," Natasha answered, turning back to Tony. "Tell me again why I should listen to what you're asking me to do, Stark?"

"Because do you remember the LAST time Clint watched _Family Guy_?"

Natasha paled to the color of a ghost. Clint had actually watched the show multiple times during their tenure at the tower. All with different members of the team to varying degrees of disaster. As the latest victim, she'd almost shot Clint when he started imitating Stewie. Not that it hadn't been entertaining the first couple of times, but after hearing "Why, I say!" for the hundredth time, Natasha had been ready to throw him off of Avengers Tower. Through a window.

Thor hadn't been any less hapless. Being who he was, he'd asked Clint the meaning of every joke until, the archer complaining he couldn't watch his show in peace, the god was thrown out of the viewing room. Thor had been despondent for weeks, convinced he'd done something wrong, until it'd taken a few subtle threats from Natasha and a very concerned Steve to make Clint apologize to him. With Pop-Tarts.

Tony, on the other hand, had cracked so many jokes it had taken Bruce and Thor to convince Clint not to kill him. It'd been a very eventful afternoon involving tranquilizer darts, strapping Clint down, and Tony dancing around the Tower, taunting the archer all while cracking jokes at the same time. Fury had since then forbidden Tony and Clint from watching any sort of TV together, whether it be _Family Guy _or _Teletubbies._

"You know, Stark, the strapdown incident was your fault,"

"I don't remember anything, Natashalie," Tony innocently answered. "I just remember getting drunk that day and waking up with the _worst _hangover." She rolled her eyes. Of _course _Stark would use alcohol to feign his excuse. Not that any of them believed him for a second.

"Guys, why is Clint begging me to watch a show called Family Guy with Bruce making the cutthroat sign?" Steve meandered into the room. "And why is Tony so pale? What happened to him?"

"So will you, Cap? Will ya? Will ya? Will ya?" Clint bounced into the room. "Pleeeeeeaaaase? No one else will watch it with me." His normally stern eyes were alight with excitement, prompting Steve to give in, despite the graphic warnings from the other team members.

"I don't see why not," he mused. "Where are the DVDs?"

"WOOOOOO!" Clint cheered, while Tony groaned aloud and Natasha's head hit the table.

It was going to be a very long afternoon.

* * *

><p>"So tell me what happened to this guy again-Peter, right?"<p>

"Well," Clint began, popping another handful of popcorn, "he got into this fight with this giant mascot chicken and now he has awful amnesia from being hit in the head."

"Like Natasha's mental recalibration when you were controlled by Loki?" Steve asked.

"I prefer not to refer to it in that way,"

* * *

><p>"That actually wasn't so bad," Steve remarked to the rest of the team as he and Clint emerged from the viewing room. "Some innuendos I could've done without, but otherwise pretty tasteful,"<p>

"Oh my God," Tony muttered. "He actually made it through a whole viewing without getting thrown out."

"Or having Clint lose his shit on him," Bruce jibed. "Unlike a certain _someone _we could mention..."

"You know, Cap was actually respectful throughout the entire viewing, " Clint argued. "Didn't say a thing,"

"Only because he was probably scarred from Quagmire," Natasha deadpanned. "Constantly shouting 'Giggity Giggity!' and making sexual references."

"You're not far off," Steve muttered, blushing.

"Hey Cap," Clint called, rummaging through the kitchen cabinet for a bag of chips. "Did you know the show gave me my own song?"

The realization dawned on Tony's face first, and he shouted in horror, "DON'T ASK! NOT AFTER LAST TIME! PLEASE, NOT AFTER LAST TIME!"

Bruce had mentally arrived to Tony's conclusion. "Noooooooooooo!"

But Steve, totally oblivious to Tony's attempt at a public service (or at least an act of goodwill), simply barreled ahead. "What is it?"

_"A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word. Bird bird bird, ba ba ba bird..." _ Instantly, Clint was off and singing, the song accompanied by the archer moving his arms up and down while shaking his rear end. If Steve thought he hadn't been scarred before, Clint dancing had just put the finishing touches on the wound.

"Well, now he's fucked," Natasha detachedly stated. She sighed and slipped from her stool. "I'll be in my room, sharpening my knives just in case,"

_"Hey Cap have you heard? THE BIRD IS THE WORD. A wada bird bird bird, the bird is the word..." _ Still singing at the top of his lungs, Clint danced off, presumably to go annoy Pepper or some Stark Industries member.

_"A wa wa ooh ma ma mow, ooh ma ma mow wada ooh ma ma mow..." _Thor began to bob his head along with the song in some unknown language. Moljnir suddenly flew to his hand, smashing through several walls, to Tony's chagrin.

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><p><em>"A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the-GACK!"<em>

Part of him reasoned it was payback for Tony singing musicals into the PA system ten days ago **(see Tony and Musicals), **but another part just wanted to see who'd get pissed first and attempt to kill him. For that, Clint had been singing without abandon into Tony's PA system for the last ten minutes. In a stupid (or gutsy) move, he'd had his back to the door, therefore not noticing when Natasha had silently stormed into the PA room and had unceremoniously seized by the scruff of his neck and slammed him against a wall. Apparently, it'd taken all of ten minutes for said pissiness to set in.

"Barton." a sleep-deprived voice grumbled into his ear. "It is FIVE. IN. THE FUCKING. MORNING."

He gulped. _Now _he remembered why no one made loud noises before coffee had been distributed. _Especially _if Natasha was in the building. There really was no room for error, even more so when she hadn't had coffee.

"Can I shoot him _now_, Natashalie?"

* * *

><p>ACDC blaring, Tony was completely immersed in a project he was working on. Currently, it was expandable shoes for the Hulk-Bruce kept rendering his designer ones to shreds, and there were only so many pairs in the world. If only he could figure out how to mutilate the molecular structure of the leather, then he'd finally get somewhere...

Tony's track stopped, and he frowned indifferently. He'd set all of his tracks to bleed into one another. "JARVIS, what's going-"

"_A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word!" _The irritatingly familiar tune began to blare.

"JARVIS, shut it off!" Tony demanded, but the song kept playing.

"I'm sorry, sir, but my circuits have been overridden," JARVIS answered resignedly. Just then, Clint's dirty blond hair poked through a lab vent.

"Hey Tony, have you heard? _The bird is the word! A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word-_"

Tony couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing the plunger shooter he'd designed a few days ago, he began to shoot at the vent Clint's head was protruding from. Luckily, Tony was a horrible shot (one wondered how he fired shots off his Iron Man suits half the time, or maybe it was just because Tony was _slightly _tipsy at the time), and the archer managed to get away, his theme song still playing.

"HAWKEYE FOR THE WIN!"

With a last grunt of disgust, Tony aimed a plunger at his speaker, brightening a bit when it silenced the song. Sparks flew from the contraption, causing some of the lab lights to flicker. There was a dead silence, a silence Tony hadn't heard in a long while. Not since-well, forever.

"Sir, the chances of you hitting that with all of those misses at Agent Barton was-" If JARVIS could have smirked, he would have.

"At least Birdbrain shut up." Wait. But that meant Tony couldn't play AC/DC at top blast in the lab, either...No. Not more of Bruce's _classical _music...

* * *

><p>"It could be worse," Bruce said to Steve, who was now rummaging in the kitchen cabinets for some aspirin. Clint had been blaring the song all morning, and the super solider was now left with a headache the size of the Hulk. "He could be singing it in person,"<p>

"Don't you dare take all of that aspirin," Natasha threatened, walking into the kitchen, a hand on her temples. "I swear to God, I will make you die in the most _painful _way should you take the last aspirin."

"You too?" Steve groaned.

"Worse. Idiot hacked my phone while I was training and it started blaring in my headphones."

"Why didn't you just take them off?" Bruce queried.

"Distraction is distraction, and I take what I can get." Natasha winced again as Steve knocked over a mug stacked on the cabinet's lower shelf. "Ugh, this is worse than Budapest,"

"What _wasn't _worse than Budapest?" Steve muttered under his breath, finally unearthing the bottle of aspirin. "You'd think that, this being Stark Tower, there'd be more aspirin, but _nooooo_..." He opened the bottle, frowning at its contents. "There's only one left." He looked at Natasha, who was glaring at him with the face she usually reserved for torturing information out of people. He sighed and handed over the tiny white bottle, and she chased the pill right out of the container, not even bothering to find some water.

"Next time I see his ugly mug, I'm turning his ass soprano," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "It's bad enough he's already throwing the word 'bird' everywhere-"

"DID SOMEONE SAY 'BIRD'?!"

Clint's head popped out in between the three of them. "I do believe someone said 'bird'!" His self-christened theme song began to blare again, aggravating both Steve and Natasha. One whose medicine hadn't kicked in, and one who hadn't had any medicine at all. _"__A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word-_Hey Tasha, have you heard?-_THE BIRD IS THE WORD-"_

One-handedly, Natasha had a gun out and was shooting at the bent, wrecking havoc with the metal's structure, all the while still nursing her headache. Clint scampered through the vent, still singing, the various bullet holes following his path.

"_-bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the-AGH!" _There was a noise resembling a choking sound, and Clint fell to the ground, his face contorted in horror. Steve and Bruce quickly hurried over to him, Natasha simply smirking at a walk.

"Natasha, what did you do to him?" Steve shouted over the blaring of the song. In answer, Natasha fired a last bullet at the room's speakers, and there was blissful quiet. He turned to Bruce, his headache deciding to fire on all cylinders. "Do we have any more aspirin...?"

"I'm going to buy some," the scientist promised, and hurried out of the room. Clint appeared to be crying now, silently sobbing as Natasha struggled not to laugh at his expression.

"Natasha...I'm not going to ask you again. What did you do?"

"She turned-" Clint began to answer for her, but the problem seemingly resolved itself when, instead of its usual deep timbre, came out as a warbling falsetto.

"You've _literally _'turned his ass soprano'." Steve echoed in shock. Stunned for a moment, he finally choked out, "Do I want to know where you learned that?" He turned to Clint. "Well, at least you can sing opera now..."

"Some comfort!" Clint snarled girlishly. "At this rate, I could be Ariana Grande!"

"Did I hear that a certain Birdbrain's turned soprano?" Tony came bounding into the kitchen, a large grin on his face. Clint's face reddened, and he didn't even try to dignify that with a response, knowing Tony would only find more hilarity in it.

* * *

><p>"Psst! Phil!"<p>

It was a week after Clint's soprano incident, and the archer was once again in the vents, ready to strike at his next victim. This time, though, he was aiming for the employees at the Triskelion, having skipped a debriefing to exact his revenge. Bruce (bless his heart), had managed to get Clint's voice back to its usual baritone, but not after squeezing a few laughs from the situation, including filming a Mariah Carey cover and an opera attempt. Said videos were currently circulating on YouTube, causing the need for _another _meeting.

Phil Coulson sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get any work done with the pesky archer hanging around, closed his file and glanced up at the vent that held the infamous Hawkeye. "What, Agent Barton?"

"Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?" Coulson felt a small stab of embarrassment. From anyone looking outside his office, it would look like he was talking to the ceiling.

"I can't believe you haven't heard! It's everywhere!"

"Should I be concerned about this?" Oh, please, not another shenanigan. He'd already had to be present for the 'digging the bullet out of the ass' operation, not to mention having to deal with a small aspirin shortage that had nearly brought out the Hulk. All within the last ten days. Coulson needed a break.

"You _seriously_ haven't heard, Phil?"

"No. Can't say that I have." The answer was short, clipped, and hopefully enough to deter Clint from any further conversation. The file was reopened, and its contents beginning to be carefully scrutinized.

"Dude. It's absolutely crazy! You're _sure _you haven't heard?"

Coulson slammed the file shut. "WHAT HAVEN'T I HEARD, BARTON?!"

"Don't do it, Coulson, he's going to-" Tony burst into the room, the warning dying on his lips as 'Bird Is the Word' began to blare throughout Coulson's office, along with Clint's off-key singing.

"_A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird..." _Clint dropped to the floor, beginning his trademark dance, complete with the shaking rear end. Which, Tony noted, was still bandaged from Natasha's hit. "Hey Phil have you heard? THE BIRD IS THE WORD _a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word..." _He danced out of the office, the ditty still blaring.

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE NOISE COMING FROM?!" Coulson demanded. In response, Tony drew his plunger shooter and began shooting at every visible speaker in the room. Eventually, the noise died down, leaving Coulson and Tony with a very awkward silence.

"...just bill it to Stark Industries, Coulson." Tony sighed. "You'll probably want to start filling the paperwork for this one, too."

* * *

><p>"Hey Hill! Hey! Hill!"<p>

Warily, Maria Hill glanced up at the ceiling, where Barton was nonchalantly hanging from a rafter. Hadn't they 'Hawkeye-proofed' those things just last week? She internally sighed. Looks like they'd have to do it again. "What do you want, Barton?"

"Haven't you heard?"

"Of you terrorizing Coulson? Yes, I've already heard all about it, thank you very much." Who _hadn't_ heard about it? Coulson sounding absolutely deranged, shouting at his ceiling, Tony Stark barging in like the cavalry with a plunger shooter? She was more surprised he hadn't gone in with a trumpet and a stuffy accent.

"No, not that, Hill. I can't believe you haven't heard!"

"You finally got with Romanoff? About time." Seriously. It really had been. Another week and Maria would have shoved them together herself. She was sure Coulson (and Fury) would approve. Eventually.

"Ew. No. I'm not with Nat and I never will be." Clint mentally reminded himself to talk to Natasha about some possible revenge on the SHIELD'S second-in-command. That is, when he could get near her without being threatened by a sidearm. "But haven't you heard?"

"What haven't I heard, Barton? And make it quick." She raised an eyebrow at him as a grin came over Clint's face.

"Well..." The refrain blasted again, causing Hill to drop the files in her hands. _"A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird-"_

"WHO IS THE MOTHERFUCKING MOTHERFUCKER THAT KEEPS PLAYING MOTHERFUCKING _FAMILY GUY_?!" Nick Fury roared as he stormed down the hallway, several agents scattering out of his path.

"Director Fury!" Clint announced joyfully. "Haven't you heard that the bird is the word?" And just like that, he was off again. _"A wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird, bird is the word, bird bird bird, bird is the word, a wada bird bird bird..." _He began to dance once again down the hallway, not noticing when Natasha swung out from a vent, aimed her gun, and once again, shot Clint in the behind before swinging back up, her red hair nothing but a flash to the stunned agents lining the hallway. Clint went down once again, his voice resembling that of a boy in puberty. "DAMMIT, NOT AGAIN!" This proclamation was so pitchy Hill half-expected Clint to throw a fit along with the injury.

"Director, I do believe this could be put to good use..." Natasha was standing over Clint's figure on the floor, tucking her weapon back into her holster. Fury stalked over to her, an interested look on his face, while Hill strode purposely behind him.

"Do elaborate, Agent Romanoff," Fury raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, there _is _that mission you're planning on sending me on next week," Natasha drawled. "That one with the arms dealer, at the convention? His...range would certainly help him fit in better than I could," Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, not unlike that which had been seen in Loki's eyes during the Battle of New York. "He'd be a lot more convincing than I would,"

"Trashed my office, too," Coulson groaned as he joined the party. He turned to Natasha. "You really need to teach me that 'turning your ass soprano' thing."

"I call dibs on that lesson," Hill added. "All in favor of giving Agent Barton Agent Romanoff's assignment?"

Three 'aye's' chorused in unison. A vehement one especially from Coulson.

"Wait!" Clint's breathy voice echoed from the floor. He was still clutching his ass. "What's the assignment?"

"You'll find out, Agent Barton." Was it just Hill's imagination, or was Fury actually smirking?

* * *

><p>"Go ahead, guys, give it up," Clint emerged from his room another week later, limping from being shot in the ass twice. Unfortunately, he was still a soprano, Fury having refused to change his voice until the mission had been completed.<p>

Tony's eyes went wide.

Bruce spit out his coffee.

Steve buried his head in his hands. "This is another thing about the present I don't understand."

Natasha, however, looked just about to fall off her chair with struggling to hold in her laughter. "Remind me who you're supposed to be again, Barton?"

"You mean who _you _were supposed to be?" Clint scowled at her and she smiled innocently, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Who, little old _me_?"

"Just get a room, you two!" Tony called, and they paused, shooting him identical murderous glares. "Although I wouldn't suggest the costume, Barton." Bruce threw a waffle at him.

"Natasha's got a point." He squinted at Clint's getup. "Who _are _you supposed to be?"

Clint sighed. "I am, for this mission and _this mission only,_ the one and only Rarity from Hasbro's _My Little Pony_," he groaned petulantly like a kindergartner. "Happy now?"

"No!" Tony began laughing hysterically. "You're a PONY!"

"You're white with purple hair and you've got blue diamonds on your ass and...oh, dear, God, you've got a UNICORN HORN!" Natasha began giggling girlishly.

"Ugh!" Clint stomped his foot and crossed his arms. "SO not fair!"

"Why, Rarity! You have returned! I thought we had lost you and your equestrian friends to the Bifrost!"

The whole team turned to see Thor with excitement on his face, bounding towards Clint.

"Uh, no, I'm not-" Clint tried to protest, but it seemed there was no deterring Thor. So he chose the only other option: running for his life.

"Did Fury tell you guys the best part?" Natasha chortled as Clint streaked past in a blur of white. The team wasn't sure what had been more shocking: Thor believing Clint had been a real pony, or actually _chasing _Clint on the belief he was a real pony.

"Do tell," Tony snickered. "Not like Barton's reputation could get any worse,"

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><p>The last of Fury's instructions echoed in Clint's ear as he made his way into the crowded convention center, automatically scanning the area for quick and possible exits. Tugging at a purple strand hanging from his head, he mentally groaned at all of the little girls and teenaged boys. Finding his target was going to be tough. Suddenly, he spotted her at a stand full of <em>My Little Pony <em>figurines. With a shudder, he recalled the director's last words:

"_Don't forget to get souvenirs."_

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><p><strong>Hi! I'm back! Read and review, please? Best review gets Clint's costume andor lessons from Nat on 'how to turn an ass soprano'! Take your pick. I know not everyone would want the costume, haha. Reviews make my day. No, really :)**

**I FOUND THE IMAGE. (For those of you who asked. :D) **

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**Take out the spaces between the dots.**

**See you guys next Friday!**


	9. BONUS: Lost In the Middle of Nowhere

**Umm..so it's early on a Saturday morning and I'm typing this on my phone...I'm really sorry for **_**not **_**updating yesterday (for anyone who checked, haha xD), I watched **_**We Bought a Zoo **_**(yes I am seriously behind the times haha) and then I had to go out for dinner. I was up until eleven yesterday writing it (uncommonly late for me) and just passed out after that. But it's here anyways.**

**Anyways, shoutout to Shinigamidemidragonslayer99, Minionloverforever, and aliceindeepdarkwonderland for following! Didn't get a lot of reviews, though. Not that I'm complaining or anything, followers are just as amazing :)**

**And to Queen Martha Pond: Nat will tell you how to turn someone's ass soprano. And she'll have you test it out on Clint **_**just **_**as soon as he gets back from the My Little Pony convention.**

**This one isn't on the list, by the way. eternal stars 5 gave me this prompt and I sort of just rolled with it. Which means I guess I'm open to prompts. **

**No ships here. We'll be dropping back in with the lovely Romanogers after this, though, so be prepared, Clintasha shippers :D**

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><p>It was the fourth time they'd seen that tree this evening. Bruce was sure of it. Plus, Tony had spit his gum out just <em>there <em>an hour ago, leaving Steve to give him a blistering, old-fashioned lecture on protecting the environment.

Yup. They were definitely lost.

"Guys." he called. "I think we're going in circles."

"No shit, Sherlock," Tony grumbled, pushing aside a tree branch. "I told Legolas an hour ago that we were walking in circles!"

"For the thirtieth time, Tony," Clint muttered, checking the map and compass, "we're _not _lost. Just...temporarily displaced." There was a sharp snap as Tony's previous tree branch came back to hit him in the face. "And OW, that hurt."

"The last time I checked, those meant the same things." Tony, having emerged into a clearing, set down the team's bags with a loud huff, the bags puffing up little clouds of dust as they hit the hard, packed ground. "Remind me why I wasn't allowed to bring the GPS again?"

"Because this was supposed to be a _team exercise,_ Tony." Steve answered resignedly, setting down his own bags. "You weren't supposed to bring technology. None of us were. What if we were stuck in the middle of nowhere, and you couldn't call a suit?"

"This isn't the middle of nowhere?"

Incoherent words sputtered out of Steve's mouth as he tried to formulate an appropriate response. "Well...um..."

"Oh, you men are _hopeless_." Natasha snatched the map from Clint, much to his dismay. She regarded it with a criticizing eye, finally realizing what had happened and shifted the map accordingly. "You're holding the damn thing upside down, Barton."

"AND NO ONE TOLD HIM THIS AN HOUR AGO?!" Tony yelled. His normally gelled hair was rumpled, and he was caked in dirt, having fallen down several slopes during the course of their hike. "I need a shower! I need sleep! I need JARVIS..." he began to whimper, shaking like a leaf.

Bruce regarded him. "Wow. He _really _doesn't do well without technology." He looked at the other five Avengers, all regarding Tony with equal looks of disappointment. "Anyone bring his security blanket?"

Clint began to frantically pat himself down, checking his various pockets in horror. "Oh no. I must've dropped it somewhere along the trail!" Natasha closed her eyes in frustration. Leave it to Clint to lose something just when they needed it most.

"Technology?" Tony sat up immediately, desperation in his tone. "Where? Who has it? Is it metal? Does it interact?" When no one answered, Tony assumed the fetal position, thumb sucking and all.

"Great." Natasha rolled her eyes. "One man-baby down."

The small clearing was surrounded by some trees, with ample view of the sky and room for a central campfire. Some logs were placed to and fro, good for perching on when needed. And, conveniently enough, there was a small patch of shrub a small ways down yonder-perfect for private business.

"I think this should be a good place to set camp," Steve suggested. The other four Avengers, especially Tony, agreed loudly. They began to unpack their provisions, Clint disappearing to gather firewood.

"What's he going into the woods for?" Tony called from further back on the trail. "You know we brought a generator!"

"Uh, no we didn't, Tony." Bruce answered. "It, uh, met an...unfortunate accident on the way here." He and Steve shared a look: Natasha _may _or may not have shot several bullets through it before they'd left. _Maybe. _

"We have to cook our food manually?" Tony squeaked. "Like, with sticks and everything? Do we have to skin the meat? Does anyone have a knife big enough to do that?"

"This isn't the caveman ages, Stark," Clint muttered, dropping a heap of wood onto the ground. "We brought decent food. And skewers."

"I fully intend to learn what exactly is this 's'more' you Midgardians speak of," Thor proclaimed as Clint struck a match against the wood. "The ritual seems quite intriguing."

At this, Tony sat up, excited, having seemingly gotten over his withdrawal. "S'mores aren't the only thing you'll be excited to learn about, Point Break." His brown eyes twinkled with mischief. "I tell the _greatest _ghost stories!"

* * *

><p>"Pass the ketchup," Clint said lazily, chicken stuck over his fork. Steve handed over a packet, munching on his own piece of pork. The team was gathered around the fire, having broken out several containers of prepared meat to roast for their meal. Steve had graciously done the prep work two days ago, shutting himself in the kitchen and forbidding anyone from entering.<p>

Nothing was said as each Avenger ravenously downed various meats, too hungry for light seemed to have recovered a bit, and was now huddled with Bruce, trying to determine the best angle in which to get a solid cook on the meat. Their whispers could be heard over the crackling of the campfire. "No, it's obviously held this way-" "You're just going to burn yourself if you-"

"Ladies, quit squabbling." Natasha drawled loudly to them. In one fluid move, she stuck her food into the fire, allowing it to combust, then withdrew it, blowing out any remaining flames. Tony examined the food in astonishment. A perfect char. "_That's_ how you cook meat. Plain and simple."

"Didn't have you pegged as the cooking type, Romanoff." Clint smirked.

"It's how I disposed of the bodies," she intoned listlessly back, and Clint went silent, trying to figure out if she was indeed serious. "Pass some pepper, will you?"

"This skewer of meat is quite delicious!" Thor exclaimed, polishing off his fifth piece of chicken. "Another!"

"...And that's why we brought another container...right?" Bruce sighed and cracked open another container; Steve's cooking was good, even in the wild.

"And that's why we brought _three._" Clint rolled his eyes. "Despite the fact that we could all get food in the wild, _nooooo, _we had to bring all of this food!"

"Please, Barton," Tony snickered. "You wouldn't last this trip going native even if you tried."

"That'd better not be a bet," Steve groaned quietly. "_Please _don't let this be a bet."

"It's a bet, Stark." Clint proclaimed. "First of us to crack first has to buy groceries for the next month."

"Who said I was going native, Barton?" Tony demanded.

"You chickening out?" Clint mocked. He began to make chicken noises, irritating Tony to no end. "_Bawwwwwk, bawk bawk bawk bawk baaaaaaaaawwwk!_"

"Fine! I'll do it!" Tony exclaimed after a few torturous minutes. "You're on!"

"...and it's a bet," Bruce groaned.

* * *

><p>"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"<p>

Thor's timbred screams filled the Avengers' camp, jolting each one out of their slumber. Tony was disoriented, blearily gazing around the unfamiliar territory.

"What the fu-"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE BIFROST IS THIS?!"

"Barton?! What the hell? My eyes!"

Clint was squatting at the campfire, eating some freshly picked raspberries. The sight in itself didn't warrant the obscenities, per se. It was the fact that he was stark naked.

Completely and utterly naked. It was Thor who had woken up to the unpleasant sight, and was trying to dispel the scarring image now seared into his brain.

"Okay, never in my life did I expect to wake up to _this,_" Steve grumbled, covering his eyes. "And I was supposed to be dead seventy years ago."

"I'm going native!" Clint exclaimed to the general horror of the team. Tony's jaw dropped in horror. "Completely and utterly native."

"That's just not fair," Tony complained. "Seriously not fair, Barton!"

"Just being one with nature, Stark," Clint answered, stretching. Several joints popped in the process, and he released a sigh of relief. "Just being one with nature."

"I know what your endgame is here, Barton," Tony muttered, climbing out of his sleeping bag and heading towards the woods. "And I intend to meet it!"

"I'm not even going to _think _about what that means," Steve muttered to himself. "I'm just going to find some food, eat breakfast, and-"

"TA-DA!" Tony emerged from the nearby cluster of bushes, true to his name. "I'm stark naked! Get it? _Stark _naked? Eh? Eh?"

Natasha facepalmed. "At the very least, could the both of you go find some leaves to cover up with or something?"

"Why?" Clint taunted. "Can't handle the pure masculinity, Romanoff?" She rose fluidly from her sleeping bag, the inside of her coat revealing a very shiny, sharp knife. He went pale and bolted into the woods. Satisfied that she'd made her point clear, Natasha smirked and began rummaging through the provisions bag for breakfast.

"Alright, lazybums," she announced. "Provided one of us can actually read the map, we should get going after breakfast."

"The river awaits!" Thor exclaimed.

"_After _breakfast, Thor."

* * *

><p>"I'm starving," Tony whined grinding to a halt a half-hour later. "Can we stop to eat?"<p>

"Sure," Clint replied nonchalantly. He shifted, adjusting his leaf covering. Steve had forbidden them from going commando in the most literal sense, leaving Bruce to devise some sort of cover for the wilderness fanatics. "You want to hunt it, or should I?"

"Guys. We're in a freaking _forest_," Steve rolled his eyes. "Best you can get is a squirrel out here."

"Sure, Mr. Boy Scout," Clint said cheerfully. "Squirrels for lunch it is!" He disappeared, leaving Tony in his own nakedness, save for his own covering.

"I don't know about you guys," Bruce began slowly, "but I think I'd like to eat my food cooked. Preferably food that was packed before we'd left the tower." He glanced towards the team. "Anyone else sharing my sentiments?"

"Same." Natasha fished out a loaf of bread, some ham, cheese and mustard. "How many slices you want?"

"Two. And hold the mustard."

* * *

><p>"It's been a couple of hours," Steve said worriedly as the group trooped through the undergrowth, occasionally tripping over the casual tree root. "Shouldn't we be looking for him?"<p>

"Nah. He's _Clint_," Natasha answered dismissively, nimbly evading another protruding tree branch, leaving Tony to take its brunt with an _oof_. "I'm sure we'll find him sooner or later,"

"What is this strange plant?" Thor wondered aloud, stopping to pick at a bush. "Its design is different from that of the trees we passed an hour ago!"

"That's a raspberry bush, Thor," Bruce answered on a sigh, having already identified several species of trees for him during the majority of their hike. "You saw a blackberry bush an hour ago."

"Does it self-replicate?" Tony asked, examining it closely. "Have any sort of camouflage tendencies?"

"Still can't believe we lost the security blanket," Steve shook his head. "Next thing we know, he's going to start seeing the mosquitos as robots."

"THOR, DON'T EAT THE-"

But Natasha's shout had come too late. Thor had already popped a certain three-pointed leaf into his mouth and was happily chewing away.

"-poison ivy..."

"Well, we're done for," Steve plopped down on a nearby rock. "Might as well call it in now. There's no telling how Thor's going to react to this,"

"I feel quite fine, Captain Rogers," Thor informed him. "This thing you call 'poison ivy' has had no effect on me whatsoever,"

"You say that now," Bruce muttered darkly. "Just wait until you're itching on the inside."

"Does anyone have any spray?" Tony asked. "These robots are killing me." He slapped at a couple of mosquitoes trying to prick at his arm. "I mean, I know people want my blood and all, but this is going a little too far even for my eclectic tastes."

Steve just sighed.

* * *

><p>"That was a good chicken wing." Natasha leaned back against the log, stuffed and satisfied. "You have to teach me that, Rogers." The light from the flames danced across her face, giving her green eyes a natural sparkle. "S'not like you can keep the recipe all to yourself, y'know."<p>

"Not on your life, Romanoff," Steve chuckled, spearing another piece of meat into the fire. "A man never reveals his cooking secrets." He added another piece of wood to the fire, watching as it leaped up towards the starry sky. "_Especially _not to assassins who would probably utilize the recipe to make disposing of bodies easier." She smirked and shoved him.

"If I could cook, I'd take my recipes to the grave, " Bruce joked, already rifling through his bag for s'mores ingredients. "I'm not Gordon Ramsay by any means, but I can make a mean s'more." He handed out the marshmallows and graham crackers, Steve's face lighting up as he saw his beloved dark chocolate bar. "Alright, Thor, you ready?"

"'Tis not the greatest time, Friend Banner," Thor groaned from the sleeping area. Steve had decided that the six of them (whenever Clint got back) would sleep under the stars, another team bonding exercise that strangely everyone had agreed to. "My stomach is experiencing strange discomforts."

"Hopefully it isn't something you ate," Steve said, a frown on his face. "I mean, you _did _eat all of those nuts and berries on the trail..." _And the poison ivy, _he mused, but then dismissed the thought. Even with the god's system differing from that of a human's, he wouldn't get sick from poison ivy...right? "Just hang in there until we get to the river tomorrow. Pepper will pick us up and we can find out what's going on." Thor nodded weakly, bent over from his abdominal pain.

"Ah, s'mores." Natasha grinned as she spearheaded a marshmallow onto a stick. "Best part of these was always setting the marshmallow on fire," She withdrew a flaming marshmallow from the campfire, gently extinguishing the flame before hurriedly smashing it between a square of chocolate and two graham crackers.

"What is with you and arson?" Bruce wondered, withdrawing his own slightly charred one. "First the meat, now the marshmallow." He popped the gooey treat into his mouth without bothering to pair it with chocolate or graham crackers. Natasha shrugged lightly and set ablaze another poor mass of sugar. "I'm going to worry about letting you near any fire-starting materials in the Tower from now on,"

"I wouldn't let her near anything," Tony proclaimed through a mouthful of marshmallow. "Have you seen how many times we've almost been killed?"

"You want to actually die?" Natasha's words were still threatening even with a chocolate mustache spread across her upper lip, creating the impression of a French redhead. Tony raised an eyebrow at the gooey treat smeared across her face.

"Well then, I wouldn't live to tell the world's best ghost story then, would I?"

"If you can scare me, Stark, I'll let you borrow my guns for a day," She raised an eyebrow right back at him, the makings of a bet in play.

"Fine." Tony answered defiantly. "We'll have to dim the fire first." He carefully removed a few logs from the campfire, the other three Avengers huddling in closer to catch its remaining warmth. Steve looked on the precipice of scared and bored, Bruce looked interested, while Natasha had already begun examining her nails.

"A long, long time ago, there lived in these very woods a tribe called the Keenahoks," he began, his voice dropping an octave. "They were a peace-loving people, who worked with the land rather than against it, taking only what they needed."

Natasha yawned exaggeratedly. "I'm about to pass out here, Stark."

"Shut up, Natashalie, I'm getting to the good part." Tony scowled at the redhead, annoyed that his epic story had been interrupted.

"One day, one of the children suddenly collapsed in the middle of the meal. There was nothing that could have been done; the child died on the spot." Bruce shuddered at the thought at such an innocent life being wasted. "Legend had it'd been the chief's child, the target of a plot to displace its father.

"Everyone went mad trying to find the killer, pointing fingers at each other, accusing family members, loved ones, anyone they could get their hands on. It turned violent, with backstabbing and revenge killings everywhere." Steve shook his head sadly at the thought of such betrayal among families. Who would do that?

"More children began to collapse," Tony continued as the fire began to die. "And more family members pointed fingers and fought wars. It was a vicious cycle. Eventually someone got it into their head that maybe the chief had been behind all of the collapsing. An angry mob was planned.

"They came on a night just like this."

A slight breeze rifled Natasha's hair, and she shivered, wrapping her coat around herself for warmth.

"The chief had known of the mob, and had escaped prior to the attack. When he returned, however, all he found were dead carcasses, dripping enough blood to fill an entire lake," Tony's voice had dropped to a whisper. "Word has it he went crazy at the sight of all that blood. He ran into the woods, never to be seen again. Legend has it that he patrols the woods at night, howling. He's looking for any surviving members of the tribe, just watching, waiting..."

The fire went out.

"I'm going to turn in now," Bruce's voice had a nervous tinge to it.

"Sissy," Tony muttered. "That was one of my milder ones, too."

"Wasn't scared." Natasha told him. "See you in the morning, Stark." She headed over to the sleeping bags, where a Thor was snoring loudly.

"'Night, Tony," Steve seemed mildly apprehensive, checking over his shoulder every few seconds for signs of trouble. Tony snickered. He'd gotten under the super soldier's skin at last.

* * *

><p><em>Hoooooooooooowwwwlllllll...<em>

"Steve?" a frightened Natasha whispered, abruptly waking. "Did you hear that?"

_Hooooooowwwwlllll..._

"It's probably just a wolf, Natasha," Steve reassured her, sleep already making its way back into his voice. "Go back to sleep."

_Hoowwwllllll..._

"What if it's the chief?"

At the nervous tremor in her words, Steve snapped awake. Tony's story had affected her more than she'd let on. "You're really scared, aren't you?"

By the light of the moon, Natasha's face was illuminated by an emotion rarely seen on her: fear. Her eyes were wide, the sleeping bag pulled up to her chin. "I'm scared, Steve. Definitely scared."

_Hoooowwwllllll..._

"It was just a story, Natasha," Steve mentally cursed Clint, wherever the hell the man was, for not being here to deal with the scared Russian assassin. "The chief isn't real."

"Then what's _that_?" she demanded shakily, pointing a finger at a rapidly moving figure in the forest.

_Hooowwwlllll..._

The howling was much closer to them now, Steve's rational mind beginning to cop out on him and letting his fears take over. The bushes rustled, and Natasha jumped into Steve's arms by some random trick of gravity. Fear radiated off the both of them in waves.

"How is Bruce sleeping through this?" Steve wondered idly. Natasha shot him a look.

"You're wondering this NOW?" The footsteps grew closer. "Right when we're about to die? Oh, why didn't Coulson let us bring any weapons?"

"You're the Black Widow!" Steve whispered disbelievingly. "You mean to tell me you don't have a SINGLE weapon on you?"

"You're Captain America." She retorted, beginning to shake as the footsteps approached once more. "Doesn't mean you always have your shield on you." Her arms wound tightly around his neck as they waited out their last moments.

_Hoooowwwwwlllll..._

"Okay, any last confessions on three," Steve blurted. "One, two, three-"

"I'm totally in love with Ingrid Michaelson."

"I'm the one that makes all the cupcakes!"

"Wait, what?!" Each of them regarded the other like they were nuts.

_Hooooooowwwwlllllll..._

"It was nice knowing you, Rogers." Natasha whimpered.

"AAAAAGGGGHHH!" A strangely familiar figure raced through the camp, the fact which was lost on both Steve and Natasha, who both screamed bloody murder.

"IT'S THE MENTAL CHIEF!"

But would the chief trip over a pile of wood?

"GODDAMN FIRE!"

Steve paused. "Clint?"

Natasha could feel herself going a beetroot red. "...Tell me we weren't just scared of _Clint._"

Steve guiltily released the spy from his grip. "I think we just were."

"I get chased ten miles by a bear, and this is the welcome I get?" Clint demanded. "Some friends you are."

"It's the middle of the night." Natasha stated flatly, already burrowing back into her sleeping bag. "I'll decide in the morning whether to welcome you or not." She turned to Steve, who was embarrassedly burying his face into his pillow. "Anyone breathes a word of this to Tony and they die."

His response was muffled. "Agreed."

* * *

><p>"BY THE ASGARDIAN GODS, THIS IVY OF POISON HATH SET OUT TO CONQUER ME!"<p>

This time, when Steve cracked his eyes open, sunlight peeped through, instead of the moon's rays.

Thor was writhing on the ground, a worried Bruce presiding over him. "He's got internal itching."

"Well," Steve shrugged. "We can't just make him swallow calamine lotion. That would be poisonous for anyone, human or not."

Bruce sighed. "Thought so. I'll call Fury." His gaze swept over the camp, doing a double take at Clint in his sleeping bag. "When'd he get back?"

Steve glanced over at Natasha, who was supposedly still sleeping. Only she'd cracked an eye open, fixing him with a glare.

_Don't you dare say a damn word._

"Well," he hedged, "if you really want to know, I'd blame Tony..."

* * *

><p><strong>Please read and review? Pretty please? Best review gets cooking lessons from Steve!<strong>

**I'll try to shoot for Friday this time, I promise. But I have a football game, so we'll see...I'll try. I really will. :)**


	10. Trying To Give Relationship Talks

**Wow, this is a long one. Apologies again that this is on Saturday morning, but...football and my grade kinda had to win first. Speaking of which, OUR TEAM ACTUALLY WON. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. **

**Shoutout to KittyKatt25 for following the story (and me as an author! I hope I don't disappoint :D) **

**Steve now has to go cook with Libbytheblackcat, who risked dying in Physics to read the last chapter...that was the greatest. Thing. Ever. **

**ROMANOGERS EVERYWHERE. Well. The makings of Romanogers, anyways :D Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>The elevator dinged open with a <em>whoosh, <em>revealing Steve trudging resignedly into the common room, blond hair dripping puddles onto the floor. He was soaked from head to toe, black sweatshirt a limp mass of cotton and polyester, his recently purchased pair of jeans sticking to his skin. None of that compared to the stormy look on his face, however, in which the storm outside paled in comparison.

"Whoa, whoa, not on the carpet!" Tony joked, backing off when at a glare from the normally chipper super soldier. "Geez, Steve, I was kidding-what happened?"

"I'm fine," Steve sighed, hoisting himself onto a stool. Tony forcefully refrained himself from cracking a joke about ruining the furniture-not appropriate for a depressed Steve Rogers.

"That date went badly, huh?" Tony murmured, turning around to find his mug. A few minutes later, a steaming cup of hot chocolate was plunked onto the counter, complete with a heaping pile of whipped cream and sprinkle of cinnamon, just the way Steve liked it. But Steve simply sighed and moodily stared at the cup, too dejected to drink his favorite concoction.

"Come on, man," Tony sat himself in a stool across from his friend. "Go ahead, tell Uncle Tony what happened."

"Women these days are so forward," Steve sighed, eyeing his drink. Giving in to temptation, he took a large swig of the hot chocolate, leaving a smudge of whipped cream on his nose. "She showed up in the most inappropriate attire and tried to tell me she was a good person on the inside."

"What was she wearing?" Tony asked out of pure curiosity. He'd set up Steve on dates with glitzy supermodels before; the man had taken them all in stride. What made this any different?

"She showed up in nothing but body paint." Tony choked back his laughter. Steve just glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Cap." Tony's tone immediately sobered. "And she tried to tell you _what_?"

"That she had a moral code," Steve snorted, inhaling more hot chocolate. "That she didn't believe in the whole 'sex-before-marriage' thing. How was I supposed to believe her in _just_ body paint?"

"Your tone suggests a worse part," Tony said grimly. "There's a worse part, isn't there?"

"She tried to ask me for money."

The normally unflappable Iron Man fell off of his stool with a squawk.

"Did you give her any?" he spluttered from the floor.

"No." Steve shook his head, scattering several drops of water in the process. "I've never met someone so morally hypocritical. Having morals with that sort of self-image, my behind. It was awful walking home. And then I got caught in the downpour," he added sheepishly, gesturing to his soaked outfit.

"Barton lent you that sweatshirt for a reason," Tony sighed, picking himself off of the floor. "You gotta trust me when I tell you this, Cap: we all thought this was going to work," he told him, patting him on the back. "We all did."

"I did too, Tony, " Steve despondently answered, slipping off of his stool and heading to his own room. "Really does prove how out of place I am,"

Tony waited until Steve was out of earshot, then glared at the redhead perched in the vents. She was watching the scene on her elbows, chin collected in her hands. "Natashalie, you're so dead. You set him up with one of those impressionists in Times Square? I'll be lucky if he comes out of his room after this."

The normally calm and collected spy sighed, concern brimming in her emerald eyes. "I know. I'm gonna try and talk to him."

"What were you thinking?"

"I thought it would work, Stark, okay?" she ground out, frustrated.

"How the _hell _did you-?"

"ROMANOFF! ARE YOU IN THE VENTS AGAIN?!" Clint's voice sounded through the hollow passages of metal, causing Tony and Natasha to jump. Clint had lately had a thing about people being in his vents-Tony had taken to calling it 'VPMS''-Vental PMS. This was the third time Natasha had snuck into the vents, despite Clint posting signs and booby traps everywhere. Steve's well being justified possibly dying at Clint's hands, she figured.

"Shit." She whispered. "I'll talk to Steve," she promised, beginning to edge away from the vent's opening.

"No," Tony answered. "I'll do it. You've done enough." Worry creased her face as Tony turned away; worried for what Tony might try to say to Steve, and worried for Steve in general-how badly had she messed up?

"ROMANOFF!"

Never mind. She could dwell on that later.

* * *

><p>"Dude, it's been raining for days," Clint remarked, staring out communal room's floor-to-ceiling window. "What's up with Thor?" It was the fifth day of rain, and despite Clint being fond of the gloomy weather, there was only so much he could take before he went crazy. Everyone had been pranked at least once, leading to several wild goose chases that had been entertaining at first, but had quickly lost their appeal when Natasha landed Clint in the medical wing, having been too upset over messing up Steve's date to play along in her usual sarcastic way.<p>

"You know, just because the weather's crappy doesn't mean we can always blame Thor," Bruce answered, on his way to make a cup of tea. "I'm pretty sure there's an awful weather system in place,"

"Yeah, but a flash of lightning goes off every time someone mentions the name 'Jane'," Clint observed. As if on cue, a flash of lightning briefly lit up the room. "You see what I mean?"

"Maybe that was coincidence," he argued. "Jane." More lightning. "Okay, so maybe it's not_ totally_ natural, then." He knew that Thor had just had an ugly argument with Jane Foster, and hadn't left his room for days, absolutely refusing to answer any of them.

"Great, first Cap, now Thor." Clint sighed. "I need to stop lending out my sweatshirts. They seems to have a habit of screwing up dates."

"Yes, which is why you're going to help me fix this," Tony announced, striding into the room, his presence brightening the rainy atmosphere like an outbreak of sun. "I've come up with a plan to fix Spangles and Point Break at the same time."

"Tell me this doesn't involve alcohol, Tony." Bruce groaned.

"It doesn't." Tony answered seriously. Bruce raised an eyebrow suspiciously at him. "Really! It doesn't!"

"Pray tell, then, Stark, what _does _it entail?" If it didn't involve alcohol, Clint mused, something had to be up. Probably involving money and more interested parties than he could count. Steve wasn't going to like this at _all_. But then again, when did he ever?

"We're gonna give Spangles and Point Break the talk they never had," Tony proclaimed. "Delivered by the tower's relationship experts, Iron Man and Hawkeye." What talk...? Oh. _That_ talk. An education on modern dating, delivered by the worst advocate for modern dating, ever. Clint groaned inwardly. He should've known that something of this caliber was coming. Hopefully, at the very least, this involved several potential dates set up by Tony by the end of the day. He'd take whatever Steve left behind. He wasn't complaining.

"_You're_ going to try and educate Steve and Thor on modern dating?" Bruce snickered from the kitchen, sipping his tea from his signature green mug. "I think you'd have a better chance educating the Other Guy. No offense, Clint," he added to the archer as an afterthought. "Just that Steve's going to be impossible to teach,"

"Not only are _Barton_ and I going to educate them on the wonders that is today's society, we're going to test those skills on tonight's soiree." Tony answered, slightly miffed at the insinuation that he had no ability to manage a modern love life. "There's lots of important figures that are going to be there tonight," he stated confidently. "And I happen to know that a certain senator's daughter just happens to be recently single. Trust me, by the end of tonight, Capsicle's going to be walking out with a new girlfriend."

* * *

><p>"Tell me why I'm here again, Stark?" Steve queried, rubbing his temples. He'd been all set to head down to the training room and maybe dislocate a few punching bags-whatever it took to get the disaster known as the date out of his mind. Tony had shown up right when he was having down, and being the polite man he was, he was now sitting on the couch, with a gleeful Tony.<p>

"I'm going to educate you," Tony announced, rubbing his hands together. "You're going to learn how to woo a girl in today's modern day and age."

"Don't you think I've already tried?" Really. All he wanted to do was punch a couple of bags. Maybe spar a bit with Natasha-she wouldn't ask any questions, much less try to_ educate _Steve on dating. He hadn't seen her in a while, though. He'd have to ask Clint where she was, as soon as he recovered from the beating she'd given him.

It wasn't like Steve to worry constantly-every single member of the team had consistently proved that they could handle themselves in a situation, Natasha most especially. Call him old-fashioned, but he still worried when a couple of days went by and he hadn't seen her. Of course, he wouldn't tell her that-Steve vehemently preferred all of his body parts, thank you very much. But still, he recently missed their little moments-especially after she'd finished beating up Clint for playing a prank on her, giving him that full-blown smile, the rare one that made his heart stutter a bit. The sidelong looks. The sideways smirks.

And, of course, setting him up on those dates. He'd patiently agreed to go on the ones she'd arranged for him, too afraid to tell her who he'd _really_ wanted to go on date with-a certain redhead that put up with his fumblings, laughed at his jokes, and knew him inside and out. Not that he'd mention it. She was way out of his league: cool, cynical and everything he wasn't. Never a million years would she go for him. He was sure of it.

"Cap? Cap?"

Tony's voice crudely brought Steve back to reality, snapping the man to the forefront of his thoughts, away from any possible self-lamenting or pity. "You in there, Cap?"

Steve blinked. "Yeah, I'm listening."

"Tell me what I just said, then." Steve racked his brain for any recollection of what Tony had just said. Truthfully, he hadn't absorbed a thing, but he wasn't about to admit that. Tony took the silence as an answer. "You weren't listening, were you?"

"Just thinking, Tony."

"And that's the thing about dating," Tony explained to Steve, continuing as if he hadn't caught the super soldier with his thoughts elsewhere. "Today, it doesn't require thinking. Just go with what your gut tells you. If you plan things out in your head, it's gonna look like you planned all of this beforehand. Makes you look sleazy. My advice-just go with the flow. Don't set requirements beforehand. And that's really all you need to know."

"So you're saying just to improvise everything?" Steve asked, doubtful. "The dam-I mean, women-actually prefer spontaneity?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Tony nodded, glad that Steve had gotten it on the first try. "Just go out there and be yourself. Without the actual 'over worried gentleman' thing that you always seem to do. Look, Steve. You've got this. I _know_ you've got this. Women will fall head over heels for you tonight."

"I'll give it a shot, Tony," Steve answered. "Might not work, though." He didn't tell him about the quiet self-assurance that had gradually filled the super soldier during the course of their conversation, not wanting to boost Tony's ego more than he already had by letting him go on with his spiel.

"As long as you try, man," Tony replied seriously, inwardly grinning. "Now. Go see Pepper. I believe she has to fit you for a suit."

Steve sighed. "Another suit?"

* * *

><p>"So what you are advising, Friend Barton, is that I should not try and be a gallant man," Thor clarified to Clint, reclining precariously in his chair. It'd taken Clint a good half an hour to find the Asgardian, and sitting him down after that had taken even more effort, more so than actually delivering the actual talk. The next time he had to deliver a talk, Clint swore Tony was going to have to deal with Thor. He'd deal with Steve, no matter how moralistic he was going to be. "It would be more advisable to go with my base decisions."<p>

"Yes, Thor. That's exactly what I'm saying." Finally, he grasped the subject. Clint thought he was going to have to shoot Thor should he ask for clarification _one more time_. "Just go with the flow," he told him. "Don't think about what might come later. Unless, of course, it comes to the deed. _Then_ you should probably spare a few brain cells for the future." A confused frown wrinkled Thor's face.

"The deed? What 'deed' do you speak of?"

"It's-it's-never mind," Clint answered hastily. "Don't even about it. In fact, forget I said it." Eager to change the subject, he added, "Have you gotten fitted for your suit yet?"

"That's what I was going to ask," An impatient Pepper Potts was now at the doorway, foot tapping. "And_ you_," she threw at Clint, "I seem to recall, haven't come in yet, either. So both of you, let's go."

"I shall take your advice to heart, Friend Barton," Thor grunted as he got up from his chair. "Much thanks on your imparting. I am sure that, with this, I can quickly move on from..._her_." With that, he strode out of the room, leaving an apprehensive Clint and shocked Pepper.

"You better not have ruined my OTP," she hissed venomously at him, eyes flashing. "That and Romanogers is the only thing I live for."

"Don't we all root for dear old Stasha?" he drawled in return. "And let's not forget, the Pepperony's always good," he added, as her jaw dropped open. "Always Pepperony." He continued down the hallway, despite her indignant sputters and squawks. Damn if he didn't look good tonight-he had a suit to fit.

* * *

><p>"Whoa. Rogers, you really are aiming high tonight, aren't you?"<p>

Steve was simply dressed in a form fitting white tuxedo with a black tie tucked into the folds of his suit, complete with white dress pants. His blond hair was causally ruffled, giving him the carefully styled look that many men seemed to envy, needing copious amounts of hair gel to even_ try _to emulate it. The biggest change was in his eyes, however. Before, they were a dark, drowned ocean, but now held a sparkle, an unexplainable excitement that not even Tony could match in his most inebriated state. He nervously scuffed his Italian leather shoes against the lobby tile, abashed at the reaction. "You like it, Nat?"

"There's definitely going to be a lot of women on the warpath tonight," she chuckled, shooting him the grin he loved so much. If only she had the nerve to call him hers, she lamented. But who was she to deserve him? Every seven-year-old's idol. The epitome of the American Dream. No, he deserved someone who could keep up that image. Not her, the fucked-up Russian assassin with a questionable past, and even motives that had people wondering from time to time. It was why all those dates had been necessary. To push him away from her, believing that if he found the right person, she'd be able to sleep at last. But so far, no one had won him over-not even her latest attempt, the impressionist in Times Square. So maybe it hadn't been her best choice. "You sure you're ready for this, Rogers?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Oh, that nervous, sheepish grin that always made her melt a tiny bit on the inside. Why was fate so cruel?

"Nat! You look absolutely _stunning_!" Pepper's voice floated into the lobby, popping Steve and Natasha's private bubble. Natasha glanced down at the dress she'd spent countless hours looking for with Pepper, no easy feat (the woman had been determined to hit every boutique on Fifth Avenue and beyond,) and smirked slightly to herself. Admittedly, navy hadn't her first choice, but one look at the dress and she'd allowed herself just_ one_ try. It was strapless-quite the bonus-and flowed something like a kimono, gathering at the bottom, giving her a sort of shapelessness, but one that held mystery instead of blandness. Matching heels fitted her feet, the result of another couple of hours with Pepper arguing with the store's manager, insisting that they'd _better _find her size, dammit, and did they even know who she was? She'd run her hair through the flatiron for the occasion, letting it brush her shoulders lightly. _Someone_ was getting lucky tonight. Regrettably enough, it just wasn't going to be Natasha's person of choice.

"Attention all! Penguin alert! Prepare the buckets of fish!" Tony boisterously arrived, brandishing an imaginary trumpet. He'd gone gold for the occasion, the rich fabric smoothly flowing with each movement. "Clint Barton, ladies and gentlemen!"

Clint hobbled into the room, clad in a sophisticated charcoal suit that brought out the sharpness in his features-but also his injuries. His black tie was slightly askew, which Natasha immediately stepped up to adjust.

"Pepper beat the crap out of me," he grumbled as she redid the knot. "I swear to God, Tasha, has she been learning from you?" She shrugged lightly, stepping back to admire her work.

"Well-you look like less of a penguin now, at least."

Tony sorted at that statement.

* * *

><p>Drinking, conversation, dancing, propositions... Yup. All the makings of a successful Stark party, Tony mused, gazing out from his vantage point. Bruce was over making conversation with another scientist-God knows <em>what <em>her name was, as long as anything didn't blow up. Natashalie was haunting the bar with Barton-what else was new-and Pepper seemed to be enjoying herself. Or as much as one could in five inch heels.

But Steve. Man. Steve_ really _had hit the jackpot tonight, he and Thor seemingly scooping up every available girl in the room. Thank goodness Pepper knew the two well, or else Tony would have feared for his masculinity as well as his relationship. The two amicably chatted with each new girl they encountered, with Thor letting out the occasional booming laugh whenever one of them made a joke. Tony's lessons seemed to be going into place, then, and judging by the progress Thor had made, Clint had driven his point home as well.

Now, where was the congratulatory champagne?

* * *

><p>"You did what?" a ditzy blonde giggled, drunkenly hanging into Steve's arm. She'd been attached to him for the last ten minutes, earning reproachful glares from the gaggle surrounding him and Thor.<p>

Truthfully, Tony's advice on being spontaneous had actually worked...to some extent. It had definitely allowed him to connect with people on a whole new level, even if said people were drunk. At least he hadn't had to worry about initial impressions. They'd always been a sort of pet peeve to Steve, having to create a new cover story every time he was on a date. But not tonight. Tonight, he could relax and go where the tide took him.

Like to that brunette across the room...

* * *

><p>"You okay, Tash?"<p>

Clint's worried voice intruded upon her thoughts, causing her to give him a withering glare. _Rule number one when having to deal with a pissed Black Widow: never, ever, __ever__ talk. _Her clipped words filled their silence.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Because she was. She really, really was. She wasn't glaring at the blonde fawning over Steve and planning how to kill her, no siree...

"Because I just drank the last of your vodka and you didn't say a thing." Indeed, as she glanced over at her empty bottle which she'd requesitioned for the night, it was empty. Clint must've snuck the last dregs when she wasn't looking. Normally, this would've been the point in which she would attempt to murder him. Today, though...

"Hmm. Guess you did. Maybe you're on your way to being a better spy, then." She waved a hand towards the bar, the bartender etching a worried look on his face as he brought over another bottle, Tony having paid him a good amount of money to provide only bottles for the night.

"Ma'am, are you sure that you're not drinking too much? I mean, this is the strongest vodka we have, and-"

"Hey, pal," Clint interrupted. "I'm guessing you're new here-yeah, thought so," he said as the bartender nodded fearfully. "Here's the thing when it comes to the Black Widow: never try to cut her off. She'll cut something off of you that's just as valuable, I promise you." All of this was said in a completely casual tone, but it was hard to miss the threat. Shaking, the bartender set down the bottle and scurried away. Natasha nodded her thanks, her eyes still narrowed on the girls surrounding Steve.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong now, after I just scared the crap out of the bartender for you?" Silence. He followed her gaze towards Steve and Thor, immediately understanding. "Ah, I see. Always knew you had a thing for Asgardian royalty."

"What?" Natasha snapped her head towards him, almost whipping him in the face with her tresses. "_I do NOT have a thing for Thor!_"

"My bad," Clint snorted. "Must be the blonde, then. You know, you can tell us if you swing that way. No one's going to judge you for it. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can introduce you two. I think she's the senator's daughter-Samantha, her name might be? I don't know, maybe I'm imagining things and I-"

"Fuck off, Barton." Three words so eloquently said that they managed to convey a whole other meaning for Clint.

"It's Rogers, isn't it?" She sighed and cracked open the bottle as an answer. "Why don't you just tell him?" The only response he received was a long chug of the alcohol, in which Clint immediately ducked as she spit it out in a surprised stream.

"This is water."

"I'll kill the bartender. You keep an eye on Rogers," he suggested. Natasha nodded, and he left in search of the poor man. Her gaze swiveled over the party once more, landing on Steve, who was dancing with a curvy brunette in ways that she was sure would normally make him blush. Her stomach roiled, and Natasha thought she was going to puke-not just because of the alcohol.

_You got me runnin' round town like a woman on a warpath_

Ingrid Michaelson's "Warpath" began to blare, the lights dimming to their least. Now was a good time as ever, she decided, and slipped off of her stool, not swaying in the slightest, despite the whole bottle (minus Clint swiping the last drops) she'd consumed over the course of the night. Natasha was on a mission. One she didn't intend to fail.

Her heels clacked across the floor in time with the song's pulsing beat. People automatically moved out of her way upon seeing her fierce demeanor, her face set in a cool, composed mask. Slowly, she moved towards the group, both men unawares as they fraternized with various women. Natasha noted that none of them seemed to be redheads, and idly wondered why.

_You got the hands to make 'em all buckle and blush_

She considered just dropping one with an accurately placed pulse pinch, but decided against it. So she waited. Edged her way slowly into the group bit by bit, Steve unnoticing the whole time.

_I'm gonna live forever and it hurts so much_

"Why, hi, I'm Steve Rogers, what's-Nat." Steve stopped cold. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't answer, only pulled his head down to her to give him a searing kiss that surprised the both of them at its intensity. Steve pulled back in disbelief, slightly shaking his head at what had transpired.

"Nat, you're drunk," he told her, mentally cursing himself for reciprocating. "Don't do this to yourself, you're going to regret it in the morning-"

"Do I look drunk, Rogers?" Her scrutinizing green eyes met his, perfectly sober in their appearance.

"Why me, then?"

Natasha was about to respond in kind-no way he would've kissed her like that if he hadn't felt something-but was rudely interrupted by one of the party's blondes tapping her shoulder.

"Find your own, bitch." The slurred statement was accompanied by a slap, a blow that Natasha didn't even try to dodge. Gave her an excuse to start a fight, anyways.

* * *

><p>"Why'd you hold me back? I could've taken her!"<p>

Steve and Natasha were huddled outside of the police station, the pouring rain surrounding the both of them as they stood under a weak awning. Natasha's fight had just happened to be with Samantha, the senator's daughter (Clint had been right, after all). Black Widow or not, assault had still been assault. Thus leading to a long night at the local police station with Steve, who had tried to restrain her from killing the poor girl.

"She could've injured you," Steve answered seriously. "Those heels looked pretty sharp."

"And since when did you worry about me?" she asked, more to herself than him. He sincerely gazed at her then, and she looked back, suddenly self-conscious.

"Always."

The one word caused Natasha's eyes to water a bit, and before she knew it, she was in Steve's arms, him comfortingly rubbing her back. Putting her at a bit of an arm's length, he kissed her then, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Hey! If it isn't our favorite Romanogers," Tony called from his car in the street. "Are you guys gonna get in the car or just stand there all night making out like teenagers?" They separated then, Steve with a contented chuckle, her with various vows to kill Tony at the next opportune moment. Arm in arm, they ran towards the car, climbing in, looking surprised to see Clint in the backseat.

"Told you it would work, Barton," Tony proclaimed confidently as they started towards Stark Tower.

"...what worked, you two?" Tony hesitated at Natasha's words, carefully choosing his next sentence.

"Clint and I...may or may not have given Capsicle and Point Break a relationship talk,"

Neither Tony nor Clint was seen again that night. The next morning, an inch-thick manila file was present on Coulson's desk, prompting the thought that, yes, maybe he _should_ take a vacation...

* * *

><p><strong>This Friday, I SWEAR. Read and review! Please? Best review gets one of Clint's sweatshirts...not one of the breakup ones xD<strong>

**And oh, yeah. If you haven't noticed...lol, I'm addicted to Ingrid Michaelson songs at the moment xD **


	11. Irrational and Humiliating Things

**I'm actually typing this really fast right now so I can still update one day late and not two. I've decided to change my update day to Saturday, just because it seems like I'm more likely to update then than on a Friday :) For some reason, this one's really long. Probably because this week was the dreaded Spirit Week at my school (and we actually won our homecoming game say what?) and my best friend just completely...yeah. I have a complicated relationship with someone right now and it just wasn't going well. (Sorry y'all have to hear about my love life xD)**

**Shoutout to You can run but you can't hide, mourningsongg, RachelTheSilentKunoichi, and FanFictionQueen1 for following! (I'm going to PM you if you've got the best review-it's getting really late right now, and my mom may or may not kill me, so...**

* * *

><p>Maria Hill stared at her desk. There was no way that paperwork was hers. There was absolutely, positively <em>no way in hell <em>that was her paperwork. Events like that just didn't happen. People didn't get assigned boatloads of paperwork like this for fun. For God's sake, _she _was the one who usually assigned the grueling assignments!

Almost six inches of paperwork, stacked neatly into six manila folders piled one on top of the other. Various staples stuck out of the ends, some more than others. Two of the folders were especially thick-and considering their subjects, she wasn't surprised. Hill sighed and rubbed her eyes, reading over the labels on the reinforced manila folders _one more time, _checking to make sure she hadn't made a mistake.

_Banner, Bruce_

_Barton, Clinton Francis_

_Odinson, Thor_

_Rogers, Steven Grant_

_Romanoff, Natasha_

_Stark, Anthony_

Nope. The names were still there, with the various burn marks from the time Barton had tried to cover up his latest shenanigans by burning his paperwork. That was when they'd gone electronic. But apparently, something called for carbon copies again, which only meant something major had happened.

And judging by the sizes of Stark's, Barton's and Odinson's files, something really _had _gone down.

"It's an ugly pile, isn't it?"

She whirled around to see Director Fury, standing in the doorway, face impassive as they both glared at the nightmare that was the Avengers' paperwork.

"With all due respect, sir, isn't this Agent Coulson's paperwork?" she asked him, now only remembering that the handler was the one who normally handled these sorts of situations. "Doesn't he love doing this stuff?"

"Not this time, it seems." Even Fury had a sympathetic undertone to his voice as he answered. "The man took one look at the paperwork for these situations and decided he'd take a vacation." Her silence hung in the air as answer enough for the both of them.

Phil Coulson was a dead man. And Maria Hill intended to be the one to kill him.

Of course, after she figured out just _what_ the hell the Avengers had done this time.

* * *

><p><strong>Steve<strong>

"Agent Hill."

"For this one, call me Maria," she answered as she swept into his apartment upon Steve's opening the door. His folder was clutched in her hand, a fact that wasn't missed by the super soldier as he closed the door behind her, worriedly following her into his living room. "I have a feeling it's going to be awhile."

"Did I do something wrong?" he wondered. "I swear I tried to convince Stark against hacking the Times Square Jumbotron. I absolutely _swear_. And I've been sparring with the junior agents daily, and I returned all of the library books-" He had. He really had. Tony had been drunk, Pepper had been nowhere to be seen, and all of the Avengers had conspicuously been absent, leaving Steve to deal with dissuading the man. No one mentioned just _what _Tony had broadcast on the Jumbotron. It wasn't something anyone liked to talk about.

"I don't want to hear about Stark and the Jumbotron," she interrupted, waving the thin folder. He fell silent. "In fact, let's pretend that that never happened, because that just means more paperwork. I'm here to talk about this," She opened the folder, quickly scanning its contents. "There was an incident a couple of days ago? Something about you lecturing Howard Stern in the middle of his show?"

"_Why would you ever talk about women like that? Public figures, especially people like __you__, should know how to treat them well, and definitely not like the sleazy greaseball you're acting like now. Back in my day, we treated women like our equals, not like expendable objects. I think that it's an absolute shame to see how society's de-evolved to this, leering and making innuendos. It's absolutely horrendous. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Stern?" _

"Oh. That." Steve fidgeted. "See, that's actually kind of humiliating, considering who he was and everything, and considering where I was...you know what, it was all Stark's fault in the first place! He wanted to get me onto the show!" Hill took a few moments to read a description of the incident while Steve buried his head in his hands.

"Says here that you gave him a blistering lecture on his morals, and how he should be treating women better than the, and I quote, 'sleazy greaseball' that he is?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Hmm. Good for you to stick up for the ladies, Cap."

"Well, _someone _had to do it," he muttered. "The man was talking about the number of girls he'd-well-er-_fondued _with as if it was some sort of victory number. I had to set him straight."

"News flash: numbers like those are unfortunately very common these days," she informed him, settling onto a bar stool, Steve joining the one next to her. "Mainly all you've got here is a demand from the show to reiterate your statement and issue a formal apology to the man, and if that doesn't go through, they're prepared to sue..."

"I'm not taking back what I said." he scoffed defiantly. "I'll issue an apology, but I'm not going to take it back."

"You can tell the world that," Hill answered, deftly fishing a pen out of her back pocket, beginning to fill in the paperwork's required blanks. "Name, Steve Grant Rogers, Residence, Avengers Tower..."

"You don't have to do that, ma-I mean, Agent Hill," Steve stammered upon her glare. "I can do the paperwork, if you'd like. I promise I won't try to burn it-" There was a wince from the mention of the incident. "-and I'll try to get it back to you as soon as possible."

"I guess that makes my job easier," she shrugged, slapping the folder shut and handing it over. "It's honestly not that much, and I'd normally do it myself, but Barton and Odinson racked up a helluva amount of paperwork."

"Ah." Recognition showed on Steve's face. "_That._"

* * *

><p><strong>Bruce<strong>

"Dr. Banner?"

Hill's voice rang through the lab, her heels announcing her arrival far earlier than her voice had. "Do you have a moment?" The scientist turn around in his chair, glasses askew down his nose. Ink spatters were present on his nose and fingers, another marring his cheek as he tried to push up his glasses.

"Is this about Stark and the Jumbotron?" he inquired. "Because we were all against the idea. Steve tried to restrain him, Natasha almost shot him, and Thor was halfway to brewing up a thunderstorm to distract him, and-"

"No, but the Jumbotron incident seems to have to be something to look into," she muttered, opening up the remarkably thin file. "I'm here about the-_tea_?" She gave him an incredulous look. "_Please _tell me you're joking. I really, really hope you're joking." When Bruce shook his head, she sighed. "Really, Dr. Banner? _Tea_?"

"So maybe I ordered one crate too many past the legal limit!" he protested. "Who knew there was a limit on how much tea you could order, anyways?"

"Anyone who took American History long enough," she dryly remarked, shoving the folder at him. "The government's launching an official investigation as to why you ordered so much tea."

"You can't be serious!" Bruce protested, reading the writing on the first document . "'We, as judicious members of the FBI, the undersigned..." He snapped the folder shut again and handed it to Hill. "You _are _serious."

"Completely. Would you like to inform me why you ordered so much tea?"

"We go through a crate a week!" Bruce exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Someone keeps drinking all the tea! I figured that I if just get enough tea to make it through a year, we'd be set. Plus, there's this new Asian tea I just discovered, and there's only twelve packets to a box," he reasoned. "Ergo, I need a lot of tea."

"Do you have any other words to say in your defense, Dr. Banner?" Hill asked.

"Yeah-whoever's drinking all my tea, _stop drinking it!_" Bruce crossed his arms childishly.

"Duly noted," she answered, noting it into the folder. "Don't worry, at least you're being honest. They shouldn't judge you too harshly for that." Bruce's eyes widened.

"Wait, I actually have to go court for this?!" he shrieked. "Just because someone's drinking all of my tea?!" He turned to a small camera in the corner of the room. "JARVIS, any idea on who it is?"

"It seems to be Agents Barton and Romanoff, sir." Hill said nothing, but raised an eyebrow as Bruce choked in surprise. "Agent Barton wanted to find out, and I quote, 'just what was so great about this shit that Bruce drinks it so often'. Agent Romanoff found it to be more stimulating than standard coffee, especially the green tea." Hill snickered at the image of the redheaded assassin drinking tea. Of all things.

"So, in my defense, I'm going to blame Barton and Romanoff," Bruce concluded, turning back to Hill. "Then again, they can pretty much be blamed for everything."

"Unfortunately, neither Agents Barton nor Romanoff can be blamed at the moment, Dr. Banner," JARVIS explained apologetically. "They seem to both be...detained."

"Wonderful," Bruce deadpanned. "Can I at least blame it on Tony?" At the AI's silence, he groaned. "No? How about Thor?"

"They're all detained at the moment, sir. Miss Potts seems to be in the process of securing their releases."

"Well, Potts better not let them out until I file the paperwork on their asses," she growled. "You've got court on the seventh, Dr. Banner," she addressed him, clicking a pen and handing over the appropriate form to sign. "Just sign in the blanks. And make sure you get a suit this time."

"This is legit," Bruce sighed. "This is actually legit. I'm going to court, Barton and Romanoff are drinking tea, and I'm going to court...for _tea._" He scrawled his name and date in the blanks, handing the forms back over resignedly. "Tea. The Other Guy isn't even going to court. I am. For _tea._"

"I wouldn't suggest a gray tie," she suggested, turning on her heel and starting towards the door. "Blue suggests truth. Oh, one more thing-try and have Rogers pick out your suit, won't you? The last time Stark picked out your suit, you look like an absolute mess in front of the cameras." And with that, she was out the door, Bruce staring after her with a shocked look on his face.

* * *

><p><strong>Natasha<strong>

"Thanks for getting me out, Pepper," Natasha sighed as she stretched, several joints cracking as she strode out of the cell. "Trust me, I would've broken out within the hour, but seeing as I _am_ an Avenger, I suppose I have a reputation to uphold..."

"You would've broken out of a concrete room, guarded by 15 ex-Marines between here and the door?" Pepper answered incredulously, regarding the cell in which she'd come to release the spy. "Even I find that a little hard to believe."

"All I can say is, the guards are getting _really _bad at checking people for concealed weapons," Natasha told her, fluidly shrugging on her coat. The glint of a small pocketknife exposed itself from a rise in her loose, long-sleeved sweater, and Pepper had to admit-armed with any knife, even a small one, Natasha would've gotten out quite easily. "I can take it from here. I suppose you have other people to bail out?"

"Actually, yes, I do." Pepper scowled in no general direction. "Tony, Barton, and Thor have all managed to screw up something or other. I just got the call-Barton and Thor are being held on 161st East, and Tony's trying to explain to the entire NYPD what happened to the Statue of Liberty." She shuddered. "I swear, this is worse than the Jumbotron."

"I keep hearing the Jumbotron being mentioned," Hill interrupted, striding in. She was clearly grappling with a large manila folder, while several pieces of paper tried to make their escape. Hill was having none of it, keeping a firm grip on the folder's edges. She turned to Natasha. "I'm not going to restrain you or anything, but you're not going anywhere until you finish this goddamn paperwork, Romanoff." The folder was opened. "You were detained on charges of compromising national security and reckless endangerment. Also disturbing the peace." She gave Natasha a deadpan look. "You weren't drunk, by any chance, were you?"

"Am I ever drunk, Hill?"

"Good point. The UN's looking to bring you in on charges of attempted treason, good for five or more years in prison. These goons-" Hill jerked a thumb at the guards behind her. "-are looking to apprehend you on reckless endangerment. I read the file. So tell me what _really _happened before I tear up the paperwork that's going to save your sorry little ass."

Natasha sighed and turned to Pepper, who had a smirk on her face. "Don't give her that look," she scolded the assistant. "I'll tell her the truth. But only over food," she conditioned to Hill. "I haven't eaten since breakfast this morning, and since it's 2 in the afternoon..."

"Fine." Hill spat. "Food, then paperwork."

"I'm sure we can balance out the two," she answered sweetly. "Good luck bailing out Stark" was snorted at Pepper, who just rolled her eyes and set off on a brisk walk, presumably to catch a taxi to her next location. Natasha gave an apprehending eye to the folder in Hill's hand. "Is that all mine?"

"Please. I've got Stark's, Barton's, and Odinson's in the car."

* * *

><p>"Okay, so let's spread out the paperwork by incident here." Hill rearranged the precarious amounts of paperwork. "You've got the UN incident-" A finger pointed towards a large stack of papers about half an inch thick. "-and you've got the Empire State Building here. Which one do you want to start with?"<p>

"Let's start with the building," Natasha answered through a mouthful of her zucchini parm sandwich. "I don't want to talk about the UN right now." She spat a jalapeno seed onto a napkin, making no comment on the fontina plastered on her cheek.

"The building it is then," Hill sighed, dragging the lesser of the two evils towards her. She honestly would've preferred getting the larger one over with first, but the large stack of paperwork seemed to be an ego-crusher for Romanoff-whatever reasons be cited-and no one wanted to piss off a recently-bailed-out Black Widow. She took a bite out of her own ham sandwich, some coleslaw falling out and onto her napkin. "What exactly did you do?"

"I jumped off of the building," Natasha shrugged. "What's there to talk about?"

"Maybe the fact that you're an _Avenger_ and people recognize your face _just about everywhere,_" Hill muttered, staring at the coleslaw. She could've picked the small glob up and popped it into her mouth, but that would require getting her hands dirty and another napkin and she couldn't afford Romanoff running off while she went to get another napkin... "So excuse me if a bunch of calls came in to the NYPD, claiming that the Black Widow, of all people, was about to jump off of Empire State Building."

"I had a bungee cord," Natasha answered nonchalantly. "The idiots just couldn't see it."

"Well, you're going to have to issue a statement on the incident," Hill told her, clicking a pen in one hand with her sandwich in the other. "What's it going to be?" The spy sighed heavily, chomping another bit out of her sandwich before rolling her eyes.

"Fine. I'm _sorry _that I scared the crap out of a bunch of weak New Yorkers who can't even handle a thrill in their lives. I wasn't suicidal or any of that crap, I was just trying to have a little fun, because Stark had been out for the day and Coulson was babysitting Steve and I before he went off-" Natasha's mouth closed suddenly with a _snap_. Hill was suddenly very curious as to what the second part of her sentence had been. "I stole one of Stark's invisible bungee cords. Prototype. I don't think he even knows it's gone."

"Apologizes for disturbing the daily lives of several New Yorkers, was a misguided attempt to find some thrills, yada yada yada..." She scribbled down Natasha's mini-monologue onto the side of the folder, then looked up into her face expectantly. "What was Coulson doing, Romanoff?"

"Why would you want to know?" A small smirk graced the Black Widow's features. "You have a thing for him, don't you, Hill?"

"Like hell I do," Hill considered herself the master of glares second only to Natasha-so it was no surprise when the spy didn't recoil. "Bastard stuck me with all of this paperwork. I need to fry his ass. Plus, I know he's got a thing for someone."

"Mhmm. Got that right," she answered, picking at the zucchini flopping out of the edges of her sandwich. "The last time I checked, he was sounding pretty damn desperate."

"The last time you checked?" Hill sputtered, finished filling out the Empire State Building paperwork, mentally reminding herself to put a spin on Romanoff's statement later. "What the hell do you mean, _the last time you checked_?"

"And this is where the humiliating part comes in," Natasha sighed, wrapping up the remnants of her sandwich. "I hack into Coulson's laptop weekly," she confessed flatly, as if straight-up confessing to murder. "For an agent, he _sucks _at encrypting his shit. The man keeps his own little personal diary on the hard drive. That's how I know that as of 1200 hours, when you were assigned the paperwork, he took off for Aruba. He would've taken May, but she refused."

"What's your point here, Romanoff?" The coleslaw looked unsalvageable, anyways. The plastic was crumpled up and tossed into the center of her red wicker basket. "What does hacking into Coulson's laptop-which you could get arrested for, by the way-have to do with anything?"

"That's the thing," Natasha groaned. "I'm pretty sure Coulson's laptop is secured with the best firewalls around. Better than the military, even. I've been hacking him for three months and he hasn't suspected a thing."

"You hacked the UN and got caught," Hill guessed. Actually, she was a bit surprised, too. Natasha Romanoff hacking a location and not getting away with it? Surely the world had come to an end. "And you're pissed because you actually got _caught_ because they have absolutely shitty security."

"Like I said. I'd rather not talk about that."

"Then where's Coulson, Romanoff?"

* * *

><p><strong>Coulson<strong>

He leaned back in his wicker chair, crossing his feet in front of him. Ah, vacation. He couldn't even remember the last time taken something of the sort. Definitely more than ten years ago. The azure surf washed against the legs of his chair, and Coulson let out a sigh of content, closing his eyes. He could get used to this.

"Phillip. Coulson."

A voice permeated his earshot, twisting into his visions of tranquillity. It sounded a lot like Hill's, he mused, but that was impossible. Hill was eight hours away by standard airfare. Given that she'd figured out he'd dumped his paperwork on her, that is.

"Phillip Coulson, you are in some deep shit right now." Yup. It was Hill. Coulson opened his eyes and sighed.

"How can I help you, Agent Hill?" Hill's face was present on a video feed a butler was holding up to him. Coulson took the tablet from him, uttering a small thanks, and turned back to the monitor.

"Your paperwork," Hill stated crisply, "I'm going to fucking kill you when you return, Coulson. Actually, better yet, I think I'd rather tell Agent May about your feelings."

His mouth dropped open. Where had she gotten information like that? No one knew, save for his computer's hard drive. "Did you hack my hard drive?"

She smirked. "I have my sources." Coulson had a nagging feeling said 'source' included a certain redheaded spy on SHIELD payroll. _Of course._

He swallowed. "I'm not coming back to do that paperwork, Hill."

"Of course not. That would be asking way too much," Hill answered sweetly, and Coulson sighed in relief. He was off the hook. "But Agent May seems to be free to lend a hand. You and I both know she won't take an order from me. You, on the other hand..."

"Don't bring Melinda into this."

"First names, eh, Coulson?" Hill smirked. This blackmail was especially fun. She'd have to thank Romanoff for the information later. "You two do seem to be awfully close. So I reiterate my point: get May to help me or I tell her."

"Fine." Coulson huffed. He couldn't have his feelings for his partner compromise their relationship. "I'll give it a shot. But don't be surprised if she doesn't say yes."

"You'll probably want to convince her." Hill's voice was purely sadistic with glee. "The consequences may or may not involve spilling the contents of your hard drive." Coulson didn't even bother to respond, just terminated the feed and reached for his cell phone.

"Coulson. Thought you were on a retreat."

* * *

><p><strong>Clint and Thor<strong>

"Ey! It's the Cavalry!" Clint cheered as May stormed into the prison, prompting several catcalls from other detainees. "What brings you here, Agent May?"

"First of all, don't call me that." May hissed at him, jabbing her ballpoint pen theough the bars. "Second of all, I was having a very nice afternoon when I got called in to deal with you two imbeciles. That's what!" She brandished an inch and a half wide folder at the archer. "This is all of the paperwork I have to fill out to cover your sorry ass!"

"Quite on the contrary, my ass is far from sorry," Clint smirked. "You, of all people, should know that."

May resisted the urge to shoot the man. _Favor to Coulson, favor to Coulson, favor to Coulson... _Never mind. She was STILL going to kick his ass into next week when he got back from Aruba. Maybe she should've gone. God knows she had the vacation time. "What's this about you and Odinson at the zoo?"

_"Friend Barton!" Thor's whisper came in the middle of the night, startling Clint. "Are you awake?"_

_"I am now, Thor," Clint grumbled. "What's up?"_

_"I wish to see the Midgardian animals we rescued last week."_

_"You mean the endangered ones from the Bronx Zoo?" Clint's brow was furrowed in confusion. "In the middle of the night? On sleepover night?"_

_"I developed a connection with the penguins," Thor desponded. "I must go to see them, lest they forget about me and find other friends."_

_"We are not getting a penguin." Clint stated flatly. "Stark's gonna be allergic, Natasha's going to try and use it for target practice, and Steve's going to have a reaction because of its icy habitat."_

_"But I am not asking for a penguin, Friend Barton," Thor replied. "All I am asking is that you aid me in renuiting with their fluffy faces..."_

_"You know what?" Clint asked, suddenly determined. "Let's get you a penguin. Hell, let's mess with the animals. I have an ex-girlfriend who works there. Never quite got back at her."_

* * *

><p><em>"Are you sure this is legal, Friend Barton?" Thor whispered as the duo crept into the zoo. " I am fairly sure this accounts for what is seen as 'trespassing'."<em>

_"Dude. You were the one who wanted to come here first," Clint whispered back, picking a lock. "Let's get in, steal a penguin, and get out. I want sleep, and we'll deal with Stark in the morning." He concentrated on his target, the lock of the penguin exhibit. Tony had recently designed some new arrows for Clint, claiming that they had the ability to open any lock. A silent whoosh went through the air as Clint released his arrow and it hit the lock, releasing the penguins, who immediately began waddling out. "Okay, buddy. Grab one and let's go."_

_But Thor was forlornly looking at the other animals. "They look so lonely! You mean not to say they will remain in captivity forever!" _

_"What do you want me to do? Release them all?" Clint hissed._

_"Could you possibly?"_

_Shrug. Why the hell not?_

_Two hours later, Clint and Thor were riding side by side up Broadway and Seventh on adjacent hippos. They were currently racing to see who was capable causing the least damage trying to make it to Times Square. Thor had already gone through Fifth on a lion, smashing several windows. Thor heartily waved towards a black bear lumbering down Sixth, only to stop when it collapsed suddenly, the result of a well-aimed tranquilizer dart._

_"Stop! Can you not see that you are hurting them?" With a roar, Thor charged down Sixth on his hippo. Sighing, Clint followed him, groaning when he saw the police cars. _

_"Freeze! Dismount the hippo!"_

* * *

><p>"No wonder traffic was a mess this morning," May muttered. "I saw a fucking bear on 36th on my way to Tai Chi."<p>

"In my defense, it's all Thor's fault," Clint defended. "He was the one who wanted the penguin."

"Well, you've got damage reports for every single animal you let loose." May handed him the file. "They're all asking for a certain amount of money. Prepared to sue should you not meet it." A pen was clicked. "Just sign. Fury will take it out of your pay."

"WHAT IS THIS INJUSTICE?" Thor roared. A rattling could be heard as the god punched the wall. "I demand my release!"

May sighed, glaring at the inch and three quarter folder. Thor was going to be worse than Barton.

* * *

><p><strong>Tony<strong>

"...Stark."

"Agent Hill!" Tony exclaimed brightly. "How you doing?" She didn't take the bait, only glared at him. It was enough to make the smile slip off of his face.

"Stark. Your file is two inches thick. It is the thickest file I've had to deal with all. Day. Don't even TRY to give me pleasantries."

"I was drunk?" He offered feebly.

"Drunk and _stoned, _is more the case!" Pepper exclaimed, storming in, her blonde hair afrizz. "Why, hello, Maria," she said politely, shooting her a smile. "I hope Nat was easy to deal with. You, on the other hand-" She turned to Tony. "The Statue of Liberty? SERIOUSLY?"

"It didn't seem to be the right color!" Tony exclaimed. "So I produced a little chemical reaction that made it much prettier."

"Stark. You PISSED on the damn thing, " Hill seethed. "Damaged a national monument. IN BROAD DAYLIGHT. AT 10 AM IN THE MORNING. Then tried to console everyone by saying it looked better that way. Do you have ANY idea how many people are filing for incidents related to the mental scarring they received?"

"On top of that, I'm getting calls from the National Park Service. They want you to replace the piece you pissed on. In the exact. Copper, weathered to that exact shade. Do you know how HARD that's going to be?" Pepper looked on the verge of tearing her boyfriend's throat out.

"There seems to be that paperwork for that, too." Hill handed over the folder to the assistant, who hefted it. "I'm going to leave this one to you, Miss Potts."

"Damn right." Tony gulped. If anything was scarier than Hill, it was Pepper.

* * *

><p>"I'VE HAD IT UP TO <strong>HERE<strong> WITH YOUR LITTLE TEAM, COULSON!" May's voice echoed through the feed to Coulson. Oh, well. He'd rather take an angry May rather than she figure out his feelings... Then again...

"S'not very high, is it, May?"

* * *

><p><strong>I know the ending to this one isn't the greatest, but... read and review? Winner gets Thor's penguin :)<strong>


	12. Hologramming Steve

**SURPRISE! I MADE IT A DAY EARLY WOOT WOOT! I wouldn't expect this **_**all **_**the time, though. Especially since NaNoWriMo's coming up, and I'm participating this year (lemme know if you are, so I can add you as a writing buddy! :D). In fact, November might actually result in later posting...let's not jinx it, though. **

**Shoutout to ****rowexz and Evedawalrus for following! **

**I think I'm going to give out my rewards via PM. It's a lot more fun that way :D**

**Very light Clintasha in this. I was originally going to have everyone be single, but...**

* * *

><p>"NO MORE TARTS OF POP?! WHAT MONSTROSITY IS THIS?!" Thor's voice echoed through the hallways of Stark Tower, rattling the walls and causing each Avenger to wince. "I DEMAND THAT YOU GIVE ME A POP OF TART!"<p>

"So that's Point Break's worst fear," Tony snickered. "You'd think it was an all-out battle on Asgard, but noooo..."

"It is entertaining to see that my brother has gone so soft," Loki smirked, watching with restrained mirth.

"You're adopted."

"The sentiment still stands."

It was Halloween night, and Tony, having recently watched _Divergent _with Pepper, was now on a dystopian-society kick, engineering the fear serum simulation as seen in the movie. He'd convinced each Avenger to let him test on them, save for Bruce-there was just no room for a Hulk-size simulation chamber. They'd reluctantly agreed, Natasha with a snort and a 'You cant scare me, Stark.'

There was the unmistakable sound of a hammer being slammed against the ground. "I DEMAND A TART!"

"Think we should bring him out yet?" Steve asked worriedly. "He could break the floor." Frown lines creased his face, the result of a very realistic simulation earlier involving the Howling Commandos and their deaths. They'd had to sedate him in order to shut him up (which usually involved Natasha taking a swing at him. No one else dared take a shot).

SMASH.

"I think he already did." Bruce remarked. "Looks like the rest of the night's gone to waste."

"Damn shame, too," Natasha deadpanned. "I was so looking forward to seeing what I was afraid of."

"Hmm. Bet I could answer that," Clint snorted. "Me dead, Fury dead, that guy, what's-his-face, oh yeah, Chris Evans? If he died, oh, you'd be a wreck..."

"Ex-cuse me!" Tony harrumphed. "Why was I not included in that list?"

"I see no reason for you to be," Loki snarked, prompting a laugh from the archer. "What possibly compares to blonde men or authority figures with an eyepatch?" Natasha just glared at him, then swung at Clint, which he easily sidestepped.

"Don't make me tell him about that time in Seoul." He visibly paled, hating that she had so much blackmail on him.

Tony brightened. "Do tell, Romanoff. What's got your boyfriend in such a tizzy? An unfortunate incident, perhaps?" Turning to Clint, he asked, "Did she mack on some other guy or something and you punched him out?" He snorted, more to himself than to them. "_That _would have made for an interesting make-up session..."

"THIS IS NOT A TART OF POP!" Thor's roar brought them all back to reality, thankfully saving Natasha from having to strangle the billionaire. Bruce and Steve now sported identical looks of concern on their faces.

"Let's bring him out," Bruce suggested quickly. He pushed at a couple of buttons on the tablet in his hand, and shut down the simulation.

"WHERE ARE MY TARTS OF POP?!" Thor bounded out of the room, hammer aloft. "THEY MUST EXIST! THEY MUST!" He held Moljnir threateningly at each Avenger in turn. "WHICH ONE OF YOU HAS HELD THEM HOSTAGE?"

Smirking, Loki held out a foiled package. "Is this the delicacy you speak of, brother?"

"_Adopted_." Tony coughed. Thor chose to ignore him and glared at Loki, shaking with anger.

"YOU DARE STEAL MY TARTS, BROTHER?!"

"Again," Tony interrupted, "you two aren't from the same biological parents, therefore you two can't be brothers, but actually-"

"Shut up, Stark." Natasha muttered, stabbing a needle into his arm. She quickly emptied the contents into his system, planting a foot into his backside and sending him into the simulation room. "Bruce, start it up. JARVIS, do us a favor and start recording. I have a feeling this one's going to go for the ages." Tony's voice suddenly burst forth from the room.

"What do you mean I can't have a drink? JARVIS! Convince them I need a drink! JARVIS? JARVIS?! _JARVIS?!_"

* * *

><p>"Didn't know you had an intolerance for sobriety, Stark," Clint snickered as they let out a shaking Tony. "I thought that was only Tasha."<p>

"I was in the woods. Alone. Abandoned. Without JARVIS!" Tony emphasized, wrapping his arms around him. "Don't tell me that wouldn't freak you out! I am physically allergic to sobriety!"

"Geez. If we put you and Tasha in Alcoholics Anonymous, I wonder who'd break first," Clint wondered, handing Tony a bottle of beer. He drank it down greedily, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve with a smack of his lips.

"Ahh. Alcohol." Turning to Natasha, he taunted, "Bet you couldn't hold out, Natashalie."

"Please. I've been experimented on more times than you've gotten laid," she snorted. "You don't think I'd know a serum if I was injected with one?" Tony raised an eyebrow at that. The entire room knew that his number had been pretty high.

"She's got a point," Clint added, then frowned. "You've slept with a lot of women, Stark..."

"Siding with her, eh, bird boy?" Tony asked ruefully. "Well, given how she is, I'm not totally surprised..." Clint nonchalantly shrugged. "What are you saying about your relationship?"

"I know what it's like to be controlled."

Tony spat out a mouthful of beer at the connotation. Bruce choked. Steve and Thor, thankfully, didn't comprehend quickly enough. "Point is, she wouldn't last." he stated, cracking open yet another bottle and chugging it down. Steve watched with a hint of concern on his face-Tony had consumed the large bottle of whiskey an hour ago, and with the beer on top of this?

"Bet I'd last longer than you," Natasha taunted, allowing a small note of menace to creep into her voice. A glimmer of challenge shone in her eyes, complete with the cocked eyebrow. "Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Stark?"

"Be all too happy to." Tony retrieved a syringe from a chest next to the hallway wall, cracking the lid open and bringing out the correct serum. "Since it _is _alcoholism we're talking about, you can have _my _serum." Natasha held out an expectant hand towards Tony, who grudgingly placed it into her palm. The amber liquid was injected into her arm seamlessly, and she rolled her shoulders once to dispel of the slight sting.

"Alright. Clint, start the timer."

"Master Stark lasted in his simulation for five minutes, Miss Romanoff," JARVIS addressed her. "You should be able to hold out for at least that long to beat him."

"Sounds cool, J." She swung into the room via the doorframe, allowing the door to slam shut behind her. There was complete silence, except for the subtle _beep _of Clint's stopwatch.

"Five minutes?!" Tony sputtered. "No way I was in there for _five _minutes! It had to be at least ten! Fifteen, tops, but certainly not FIVE!" Thor guffawed.

"It seems you are not as brave as you might think, Friend Stark." he answered honestly. "I myself have a time of nine minutes, having had to withstand the cruelty of a world without the Tarts of Pop."

"Yes, because it is quite the fear, going without the scrumptious breakfast treat," Loki drawled. "Yet dear old Captain America managed to do without them during his tenure in the ice."

"Pop Tarts weren't invented before I went into the ice, Loki." Steve scowled. "I only learned about them after I came out."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S NO TSARSKAYA?!" Natasha's enraged tones erupted from the room, causing Tony to start laughing hysterically. Clint's eyebrows rose at the mention of the famed Russian vodka-his girlfriend had been so known for craving it that fans constantly sent bottles, leading to a large stash in Stark's storage. JARVIS had yet to test them all for poison. What was even more surprising was that Natasha _believed _there hadn't been vodka-surely she knew about the large stash, and logical reasoning would lead to the assumption that the whole thing was faked. "THERE HAD BETTER BE SOME GODDAMN TSARSKAYA!"

Or, at least, that's what he hoped. He had a good hundred bucks riding on the fact that Natasha lasted for more than ten minutes.

"Isn't there a giant stash in storage-?" Bruce was cut off by a hissing Tony.

"She doesn't know about it yet."

Well, shit. Clint's odds in the pool were definitely reduced. Looks like the odds were in Loki's favor. He'd bet that the Russian would start shooting at the walls in less than five minutes.

"We're at the five minute mark," Bruce announced, glancing at the archer's stopwatch. "She's got five minutes before she beats Tony. Ye of little faith, Steve-you're out."

"I've seen Natasha's tendencies towards homeopathic behavior when she's sober," the super soldier shrugged. "Withholding her drink of choice is significantly worse."

"THERE _HAS _TO BE SOME IN THE BACK ROOM. IT'S A FAMED RUSSIAN VODKA, FOR GOD'S SAKE. DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM?!" At the last part, even Bruce couldn't take it anymore. The entire team, including Loki, was besides themselves with laughter.

"I'd expect that from Tony," Clint gasped in between laughs, "but never from Tasha." He sincerely hoped JARVIS was recording-this was excellent blackmail the next time he wanted to go on a date.

"Isn't your girlfriend supposed to be Little Miss Modest?" Tony choked, eyes alight with mirth at the fact that Natasha had actually tried to use her position to get something. "I thought she wasn't too happy at being the Black Widow."

"She's not," Clint replied. "She _hates _having to bring up her position. She must be _really _desperate."

"Please," Natasha's pleading voice emanated from the metal confines of the room. "Just a drop. A drop is all I need."

"I am quite surprised she has not discharged her weapon yet," Thor mused. Loki quietly began counting down.

"I think it's going to happen in three...two...one..." On instinct, every Avenger ducked as several prominent bullets slammed against the walls, creating formidable dents. Realizing there was no danger, they slowly straightened up, fear showing on Steve's face.

"The pool's for when she fired, right?" Tony asked weakly. "'Cause I think Reindeer Games won."

"So not fair!" Clint complained. "He could have invaded her mind for all we know!" When everyone turned to look at him, he gave them a shocked look. "_Eragon_? No one? No?" They all shook their heads. "You all _seriously _need to sit down and read some time."

"I play fair," Loki scoffed. "I'm offended you even decided to _suggest _that I may have cheated in this contest." The archer said nothing, only placed a fifty into the trickster's outstretched palm. Tony followed suit, dropping in a hundred. Steve grudgingly added a ten, and Bruce a five. Thor gave Loki a long look before dropping in a blueberry Pop-Tart. He looked at it in disbelief. "This isn't mortal currency, Thor!"

"Just leave it, Loki," Bruce sighed. "We've tried teaching him about paper money. He still insists on bartering with Pop-Tarts."

"It works quite well," Steve added. "I get a lot done by paying Thor in Pop-Tarts." Suddenly, Clint's ears perked up. There was the faint sound of sobbing.

"Guys, shush," he said, halting Loki and Thor's squabbling. "Do you hear that?" The occasional gasp of breath could be heard, along with various choking sounds.

"Oh my God," Tony gasped. "Is that Natashalie-" He shook his head. "She can't be. It's impossible."

"The impenetrable Black Widow is actually _crying_," Loki declared in shock. "The world is coming to an end."

"It's the apocalypse!" Thor announced quite loudly, breaking the joke. Tony and Loki shushed him, wanting to savor this moment. After all, no one had seen Natasha cry since-actually, _no one _had seen Natasha cry, save for Clint. And even he refused to reveal the sources of her distress then, should Tony try to replicate the circumstances.

"Someone...please..." Natasha's jagged voice pulled at their consciences once again, but the normally sympathetic Bruce remained stoic. Not a hand twitched towards the tablet, each member raptly listening to the assassin plead for alcohol.

"I swear to God, Stark, let me out or I will stab you where it's important."

Tony dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

* * *

><p>The hallways of the tower were filled with an absolute quiet, save for the humming of the radiator. Steve tiptoed through the living quarters, making his way to the kitchen for a glass of milk. He hadn't been able to sleep-blame the nightmares again-so what better way to ease his insomnia than a glass of warm milk?<p>

Moonlight filtered through the common room's large picture window, illuminating the couch, coffee table, and flat-screen TV. Steve turned towards the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets for his signature mug. The red, white and blue ceramic was plunked onto the table, the refrigerator opened, a shaft of light spilling onto the kitchen island. Steve's back was turned to the hallway, so when he turned back around , the sight that greeted him was none too pretty.

"_You._" he hissed, almost dropping the jug of milk. "I thought you were dead."

The menacing face of Johann Schmidt leered back up at Steve, lips curled up in a gruesome smile. "I was never _dead_, my dear Captain. And now I've come to finish what I've started." Steve considered throwing the jug of milk in his hand at the man, but rejected the thought. If the man was who he really said he was, then there really was no point. Damn not having his shield. Should he call for backup...? Tony was most likely sleeping off the hangover he'd acquired through the alcohol he'd consumed throughout the night. Thor slept like the dead, that being one of the only traits he and Loki shared. Bruce was most likely passed out in the lab, and putting the Hulk in proximity of Red Skull would _not _be beneficial towards the Tower. While he doubted Clint and Natasha would be at the ready within half a minute, the two were currently ensconced in...activities Steve didn't want to think about. Slowly but surely, he began to back away from the image, tightly clutching the jug in his hands.

"Steve? Is that you?"

This time, Steve was _sure_ he was dreaming. As he whirled around, the image of Peggy Carter stood at him, radiating in the moonlight. "Peggy?"

"Ah, Agent Carter," Schmidt hissed, grinning at Peggy. "So nice to meet the woman who's finally captured the heart of dear old Steve Rogers."

"I would hardly confirm our relationship," she scoffed, and Steve's heart seemed to splinter into several pieces. She didn't love him? After all this time...Was this the product of one of Tony's serums? _It couldn't be,_ he reasoned. _He hadn't taken a needle to the arm. Unless Tony had somehow stabbed him in his sleep..._ All the same, Steve pinched himself with more force than necessary. Nope. Nothing. This was real.

"But how he _pined _for you," Schmidt taunted, while Peggy's lips tightened into a taut line. "How _constantly _he spoke of you, remembering your name when no one else was around, grieving for you in his private moments, absolutely refusing to move on to any other woman, especially with the absolutely _delectable _Agent Romanoff in his midst constantly..."

"Natasha. Is. With Clint," Steve affirmed through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the sound of his hopes and dreams shattering into a million pieces. "I would not, were she single or not, hold any intentions towards her. I wish them both the best."

"I don't understand why he continues to pine, really," Peggy continued dismissively, not even batting an eyelash despite Steve's seemingly obvious signs of betrayal. "He deludes himself with the possibility of a relationship. Him, destined for a future with _me_? Hah!" At this, Steve dropped the jug, falling to his knees.

"Don't do this, Peggy. Please. Please, just don't do this to me..." Steve's joints were pulling apart at the seams, but he pulled himself into the fetal position as Schmidt advanced towards him, a knife in his hand. This was truly the end of his life, he reasoned. He wasn't going to die of old age, or in battle. No, he was going to die at the hands of an old enemy, forsaken by the one true love of his life.

"And so ends the great Captain America," he said softly, drawing the blade. "Such a pity that he dies alone, with no one to care for him, no one to see his last breaths..." The realization paralyzed Steve's ability to breathe, stopping his heart as black spots swam around his vision. _Goodbye, world..._

* * *

><p>"Steve? Steve! STEVE!"<p>

He jolted awake as Tony waved a block of smelling salts in his face. The Avengers were scattered around the kitchen and common room. Instead of moonlight, the bright, hard sunlight filtered into the room, a sign that November had truly begun.

"What happened to you?" Tony demanded, as Steve rubbed his eyes, attempting to focus. Instantly, all of the events of the night before came rushing back: Schmidt, Peggy, the heartbreak that had been so painful he'd blacked out.

"Peggy...she said she didn't...love me..." Another painful memory made itself present. "Schmidt...he hit on Natasha..." At that, the Black Widow was motionless, but otherwise showing no expression on her usually stoic face.

Clint was examining the dropped jug of milk, frowning as he looked back and forth between the jug and his unfilled bowl of cereal.

"Damn it," he whined. "That was our last jug of milk." He turned to Natasha. "Tasha, d'you think you could run out and get more?"

"Do it yourself, loser." She rolled her eyes and turned to Steve. "Steve, what do you mean 'Schmidt hit on me'?"

"He said...why I hadn't moved on from...Peggy when you were always...around...obviously...you and Clint..." Steve still struggled for breath; Tony and Bruce helped him into a sitting position. Thor was at the island, obliviously munching on yet another Pop-Tart. Loki was nowhere to be seen, but it was assumed he was sleeping in, as the trickster liked to do.

"You saw Peggy, Steve?" Bruce asked concernedly. "You know as well as I do that they're both dead, this could mean serious PTSD as well as neural damage..."

"I wasn't hallucinating, Bruce," Steve forced out. "I saw them. They were there. Sure as I wear the colors of the American flag."

"Ah." Tony smirked. "That just means that they worked. Finally, someone they worked on. I tried them on Hill last week and she didn't bat an eyelash."

"What worked, Tony?" Bruce growled. "_What worked_?"

"Oh, I developed a new...hologramming program," Tony admitted sheepishly. "The result was to have seriously realistic images that walked, talked, and were pretty much everything except for physically present..."

He hadn't been hallucinating, Steve realized. He'd been tricked. By Tony.

Again.

Humiliation washed over him as he growled, "I could've DIED!"

"At least they worked?"

* * *

><p>"Can't even catch a break on Halloween, can I?" Coulson grumbled as he stormed into the Triskelion, having been handed a manila folder at his apartment an hour ago. "No, Tony has to go and screw things up <em>again<em>...and this time, pissing off _Captain America,_ of all people..."

No one commented on how the man was dressed in a form-fitting red, white and blue suit, complete with face mask and shield.

* * *

><p><strong>Read and review! And, as always, if you like what you read, follow the story! :) Happy Halloween! Best review gets the stash of Tsarskya in Stark's storage...of course, and an angry Nat after you... xD<strong>


	13. BONUS: Five Nights At Freddie's

**And so it begins again...how is everyone?! It's been a weird week of Twitter conspiracy theories. xD I won't go into them.**

**Thanks to RukoYukine for collaborating with me on this! :)**

**Shoutout to ****GetLoki, Rin596, LenaAzarova, and Agent L. Frost for following! :)**

**SINGLENESS WOOOOOOOOO xD I think I'm bringing the Romanogers back next chapter. (I sorely need to write some Clintasha, haha)**

* * *

><p>Bruce sighed as he glanced at the makeshift circle of laptops, all displaying the same logo: "Five Nights At Freddie's". By the macabre background, he could guess that it was most likely video game night. Which meant that Tony would make them all play a creepy video game. Which meant that Bruce had been excluded...<em>again. <em>It's not that he didn't mind. On the contrary, scary things weren't on his list of favorites...or the Other Guy's. It was just that each time, the team (read: Tony) screwed up and blamed the game.

He wondered what would happen this time.

* * *

><p>"Phil! Glad you could make it!" Tony called, clappng the agent on the shoulder. "Seems like we never see you these days."<p>

"Well, you'd probably see me more if I didn't have to do all of your paperwork," Coulson muttered through gritted teeth, holding up a smile. "So what are we doing today, Stark?"

"FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDIE'S?" Clint exclaimed upon seeing the screen. "Do you know how bad this could get?!"

"No. Is it bad?" Tony asked eagerly.

"Let's just say _I _had nightmares," Clint muttered. At that, the billionaire brightened considerably. Steve scared was nothing new. But _Hawkeye_? Something scared _Hawkeye_? This he had to see. Hopefully on camera, so that he could watch it over and over.

"Please," Natasha snorted, stalking in. She looked formidable for such a casual night, in caramel leather boots, jeans and a black jacket. An olive beanie topped her head, somehow not clashing with her bright red hair. "Clint has nightmares at Mario Kart. I wouldn't take him too seriously."

"Any reason we're so dressed up, Tasha?" Clint smirked. She shot him a glare, daring him to answer. He didn't seem to value his life so much at that moment, for he added, "Like a daaaaaaaate?"

"It's for me, obviously," Tony swaggered, taking an imaginary bow. "Natashalie's finally come to her senses and realized that I'm the perfect one for her." Without looking, she smacked him over the head.

"Don't let Pepper hear you say that." She turned to Clint and answered, "May and I are heading out to the bar later. She's trying to teach me how not to beat up anyone in public."

"Ah, May," Coulson shook his head. "I can say I'm not surprised." He rubbed at his arm, and it was only then that Natasha noticed a bruise on his wrist.

"You need to get faster at self-defense. With all due respect."

"No, May just needs to be slower." he retorted. "Damn woman swept me out in less than a second."

"Whatever you say to make you sleep at night," Clint smirked, clearly enjoying the connotations Coulson's most recent statement had wrought. "Because we all know what's _really _going on...Didn't know you did those sort of things, Phil,"

Coulson just shot him a glare.

"I made it, I made it..." Steve strode in, looking harried. "Just had to see Thor off to New Mexico...I've told him a dozen times that he have Jane just move in, but he insists on not rushing her..." Upon seeing Natasha, he started. "Try not to beat anyone up this time, okay? This'll make the third time May and I have had to bail you out."

Tony's jaw dropped open. "Laptop-video game-" was all he managed to squeak out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Last one to die doesn't have to foot groceries for the next four months."

"It's on, bitches," Clint vowed. He'd had to pay for the last month of groceries after losing the last bet-he swore that Tony had been demanding organics for the last month just because. It sure wasn't because he'd wanted to change for Pepper, oh no... "I swear to God, you all are going down. I am _not _paying for another month of locally grown kale. Shit's expensive."

"It was for Pepper!" Tony defended. The unsaid accusation of 'bullshit' hung in the room, no one needing to vocalize it. "It was!"

"Let's just get this over with," Coulson said resignedly, reaching for a laptop and a set of headphones. "The sooner I can get this over with, the better." Each Avenger did the same, absent-mindedly picking a seat on the couch. Tony let out a squawk as Natasha plopped onto him, almost squashing his computer. "That's the new edition, Natashalie!"

"Whoops," she smirked, not sounding apologetic in the least. She moved a few feet over, this time landing on an unoccupied cushion. Silence filled the room as each of them absorbed the introduction through their headphones.

The competition was on.

* * *

><p><strong>Tony<strong>

_Whoever was running security for this place was really doing a shitty job_, he mused as he frowned at his screen. _They really ought to have invested in Stark Industries. _He would've done so much better than these grainy black-and-white cameras. Installed cameras that were in color, first of all. Secondly, they'd have a _much _longer battery life than the crappy batteries he was dealing with right now. How was anyone supposed to last eight to twelve hours on these? Especially with all of the checking he was having to do, opening doors left and right. He'd bet anything that the cameras were the biggest battery drainer. Speaking of which, the cameras in the tower really needed an upgrade, they were really taking up a decent amount of power, and just when Thor allowed Tony to experiment on his hammer-

"AAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!" Lost in his own thoughts, Tony had clicked on a door, only to suddenly be met with a wide-eyed robot, smiling a creepy grimace as lightning illuminated his silhouette. The night gave the figure an eerie green color, only heightening Tony's fear. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

"That, Stark, would be the characters of Freddie's," Natasha smirked, having met her own character a few minutes ago. "Means you're about to die soon. Scared?"

"Of course not!" Tony insisted, trying to slow his racing heartbeat. "I've seen worse. What makes you think that was actually _scary _to me?" He focused back on his monitor, scanning the camera feeds once again. With a sinking heart, he noticed that his battery percentage was running low. Okay, so maybe he was a _tiny _bit scared. But anyone that considered admitting something of that caliber to _Natasha Romanoff_ was writing their own obituary. "Not scary in the least," he scoffed. "Wasn't scared at all."

"The bullshit's so obvious I can smell it from over here," Clint called from the other end of the couch, not even pausing in his game."Might want to clean yourself up, Stark."

"Not scared," Tony called back to him determinedly. "Bet you you'll be pissing your pants within the next five minutes."

Clint flipped him the bird. The billionaire just snickered at the irony.

* * *

><p><strong>Natasha<strong>

The bells tolled through her headphones, signaling that she'd made it through yet another night at the damned restaurant. The place really did have crappy security. A few well-placed kicks and she would've made her way out easily. Why cower in the room? It was just a bunch of stupid robots. Not like they'd been equipped with commands to kill. Most likely they wouldn't put up any fight. She clicked around the room, hoping for a weapon of some sort that would help aid her escape. No knife, no rope, no gun...Natasha was well-versed in the art of killing people with just about any object imaginable, but she was pretty sure that she wasn't able to kill someone with paper. Or a hole puncher. Well, a person, maybe, but robots? Not so much.

Maybe there would be a gun looking around the various corners of the room? She panned through the cameras, not caring that she was deliberately wasting her battery. Nope. No gun here. Or here. Nor here. Was there a gun _anywhere _in this damn game? She swore the developers built this game with the intention of wanting the player to die.

"Do I get a gun?" she muttered to herself, her fingers clicking more and more rapidly as she impatiently searched through the cameras. "Why don't I get a gun?"

"How does it feel, Tash?" Clint taunted, having made it through the second night himself. "Not having a weapon to get out with?"

"You know that I could get out if I wanted to," she retorted, still switching through her cameras. As she was about to make her third round, the bells tolled. Another night through. And she _still _didn't get a gun. She'd made it through four nights. Surely she deserved _something_ after having gone through such hell.

"Someone gimme a gun," she groaned, again rapidly flipping through her cameras. "Where the hell is my gun? I need a goddamn gun!" A face showed up in her left doorframe, and she immediately shut the door on it, grimly catching the battery percentage in her peripheral. The way it was going, she'd be dead within a minute. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY GUN?!" Suddenly, a robot popped up in the screen as a result of her leaving the door open. As a reflex reaction, her gun was automatically out of her holster and a bullet released at the computer, spiderweb cracks appearing across the screen as it went black.

The gaming abruptly stopped as each Avenger turned to look at her, all with different expressions on their faces. Clint's was pure amusement, having expected something of the sort to happen. So confident, in fact, that he'd previously made a bet with Bruce about the whole ordeal. The scientist now owed him ten bucks. Tony's was more shock than anything, most likely at the fact that Natasha had just shot his brand-new computer. His mouth hung open, unable to form any coherent words. Steve had concern on his face, bless the man, and looked fit to say something, but decided against it and kept his mouth shut. Coulson, in the ultimate fit of wisdom, didn't even look up from his screen. Smart.

She stood up and brushed the remains of the laptop off of her jeans, tucking the headphones into her pocket. "If no one has any further objections, I'll be off to the bar." She retucked her gun into her holster and was ready to exit the room when Steve's parting words froze her, his eyes still trained on the screen.

"Remember, Nat. Don't get arrested this time."

As she exited, she vaguely heard Tony inquire, "How many times has this happened?"

* * *

><p><strong>Clint<strong>

Ugh. There were so many faults in this game he didn't even know where to start. For one, where was he going to escape from should the robots get past the door and decide to attack him? Did he have any weapons besides his flashlight and remote to close the door? He shook his head. Had he been in that situation, he would have had so much more than his flashlight. Preferably a quiver of arrows. And a knife or two. Maybe Nat as backup-after she would finish chewing his ass out for landing the two of them into the situation.

Warily, he checked his camera feed for any sign of the robots. One could never be too cautious about their surroundings. He would never admit it, but the game was starting to wear down on his reflexes. Too many times during the third night alone, he'd caught a glimpse of the robots in his door and had hurriedly shut it, breathing a sigh in relief as he'd once again removed himself from the list of those having to buy groceries for the next four months. He'd do anything to have to avoid going out. Absolutely anything. He'd bribe the winner if he had to. Which would be tough if the winner was Tony, but...

"AAAAAAGHHHHH!" Tony's scream alerted the entire group to his demise; on the other hand, his falling off of the couch was a pretty good indicator, too. The _smack _of Tony hitting his forehead on the floor made Clint snicker. When it was his turn to buy groceries, he was most definitely going to have a nice craving for foie gras during that time, health problems be damned. Maybe some locally grown okra while he was at it. He'd never really gotten to live out the gumbo phase he'd had while on that mission in New Orleans back in January.

"Night four," he muttered determinedly as he closed his doors-just a precaution. He'd barely lived through the last night, scraping by with an eight percent battery. He flipped through his cameras, frowning as he didn't find a single robot in any of them. Were they all moving away whenever he flipped to a certain camera? Was that a shadow at the end of the hallway? Clint leaned closer to his screen, intent on examining the shady figure.

_MAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHH._ A robot popped up into his face, a little closer than he would've liked to be, and Clint reared back in fright, clutching his chest. No one had scared him like that in years. Not since-never mind. He mentally revised the statement. He hadn't been scared like that in _days_. Not since Tony had presented him with the bill for all that goddamned kale. Furtively glancing around the room, Clint noted in satisfaction that neither Steve nor Coulson had noticed his small panic attack. Steve was confusedly poking at the controls; he idly wondered how the super-soldier had made it this far. Coulson was just staring at the screen. Most likely, he was trying to death glare a robot.

"Death glaring it doesn't work, dude," Clint snickered at him, returning to his own office screen. "It's a computer program, not May." Even Steve had to laugh at that: it was well known that Coulson and May had epic staredowns, sometimes resulting in one of them having to be sedated just so that they would get some sleep. Or at least close their eyes. The Avengers had heard the stories onboard the bus, them usually ending with Coulson in the medical bay because May had punched him out.

"Shit. Ten percent." Hurriedly, Clint opened his doors, with a growing sinking feeling that tonight was the night he was going to die. He shouldn't have kept his doors closed so long. Now, he was relying on pure luck that no robots would show up. Coupled with the fact that he hadn't seen any on his last camera sweep, and some nervousness was in order. "I'm going to die tonight, aren't I?"

"I sure hope you'd better," Coulson muttered. "My paycheck's small enough as it is."

Suddenly, the lights went dark, flickering out with a small _buzz_. The sinking feeling in Clint's stomach grew. _Oh no, please don't let me die, please don't let me die, I really don't want to be funding kale and Pop-Tarts for the next months, no matter how much Thor wants the damn things, PLEASE don't let me die-_

"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Clint jumped about a foot in the air at the scream, instinctively checking himself for bodily injury, then turning for Natasha, quickly realizing she wasn't there. _Then who screamed? _He looked up from his screen to see Coulson cowering on the couch, scrambling away from his laptop. _Ah._ "FUCKING. ROBOTS."

"Guess it's just you and me, Barton," Steve muttered to him as his rapidly clicked his touchpad. "I don't know about you, but I'm at about thirty percent battery." Clint's competitive spirit revved back up. No way he was going to let someone as inexperienced as _Steve _beat him at video games. Especially crappy video games that had no sense of security. A shadow flickered at the wall across from him, and he nervously eyed it. Another danced across the adjacent wall, disappearing as quickly as it had occurred. His eyes twitched nervously. Were there intruders in the tower? Had they gotten past security? Was he just imagining things? Nah. He probably was. Damn game was making his jumpy. This wasn't good for his reputation.

_Wooooooooo..._

Clint jumped again, certain that the sound had emanated from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He looked around the room to see if any of the other men had caught the sound. Steve hadn't noticed. Coulson was still in the fetal position; Tony the same, only on the floor. Neither of them looked sane enough to have picked up on a sound. He shook his head. He really needed to get himself checked by Bruce when this was all over.

"MAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!" The scream came completely unexpectedly in Clint's headphones, and he threw the things as far as he could without breaking them away from the laptop. Static flashed across his screen, alternating with the visage of a robot dog, its wide, red eyes and jaw swinging open at Clint. Several other robots surrounded the one, bringing on intense flashbacks of being surrounded by Chitauri.

"Clint! Clint! CLINT!"

He snapped out of it to Steve slapping him in the face, the creepy music still playing in his headphones. Clint weakly sat up, ripping his headphones out of his ears.

"Dude...what happened...?"

"You were muttering something about the Chitauri and their blue eyes," Steve answered, a look of concern etched onto his face. "Then something about Natasha? I'm going to guess that's not related to the Chitauri, though."

Clint was so mortified he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed about that last part. "I'm not with Nat. It was probably something about retribution." His cheeks heated up as he realized what his freak-out meant. "Dammit. I'm part of the grocery list, aren't I?" He flopped back onto the ground in defeat. "I can't take any more kale past this point."

"Just when I was getting used to having Kobe beef," Steve jibed, helping the archer up once more. "Kidding," he added as Clint blanched. "I had it once on Stark's bill." The lights flicked on, and the four men turned to see Bruce, arms crossed, with a stern look on his face.

"Now, what did I tell you guys about playing video games in the dark?" Tony and Clint hung their heads in shame. Steve just sighed. "Steve, I thought you knew better than this." He caught sight of Coulson, looking thoroughly ashamed. "Agent Coulson, I admit I'm quite surprised to see you here."

"I'm surprised I am, too."

"Now." Bruce clapped his hands together. "Who wants pizza? I heard of this place on 7th called Freddie's. You guys want in?"

The archer went pale.

* * *

><p>"Clint, you look really pale," Bruce commented casually as the four of them entered the pizza place. Coulson had begged off on the trip, insisting that he'd needed to be on standby should Natasha and May get into some sort of altercation.<p>

"You never know with those two," he shrugged as he slowly backed out of the tower. "Have fun, you three."

"Me? Pale?" Clint asked, immediately feeling his face. "I could never look pale! I'm too tan!" Having determined he was sufficiently 'un-pale', he swung his arms back to his sides. "If you wanted to see someone pale, try Steve."

"Was that a frozen joke, Barton?" Steve asked uninterestedly, surveying the place. "Looks deserted, Bruce."

"I'm pretty sure I have the right place," Bruce answered distractedly. "Let me go look outside to see if I've got the correct address." With that, he strode out of the parlor, leaving Tony, Steve and Clint behind.

"Nice screams you had back there, Birdbrain," Tony snickered, speaking for the first time since the men had left the tower. "You sure you weren't doing something else besides playing the game?"

"I'm pretty sure yours were louder, Stark," Clint retorted, smirking. "Hope you like paying for foie gras. Stuff's pretty good-or at least I've heard."

Tony was about to bite back a response when the lights in the room went out, the windows and doors automatically barring themselves, leaving the three Avengers in the dark. Tony involuntarily jumped into Clint's arms, which the archer could barely restrain himself from shaking like a leaf. He did, however, shoot Tony a nasty look.

"Don't think this means anything, Stark."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Legolas."

_Whiirrrrrrr..._

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Clint and Tony echoed simultaneously, giving each other identical horrified looks. Steve just turned to them, expertly nonchalant. Figured he would be the one to keep calm-he had won the game, after all.

"I swear to you both, when it's your month to buy groceries, I'm demanding we have black truffles at least once a week," Steve threatened, picking Tony out of Clint's arms with a groan. "It's probably just nothing."

"THEN WHAT'S THAT?!" Tony shouted, pointing a wobbly finger at a shadow advancing towards them. He brought out his phone's flashlight and shined it into the corner. "AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH! IT'S ALIIIIIIVVEEEEEEEE!"

The three of them instinctively fell into a defensive position, leaning against each other for support. A small horde of robots came towards them, their joints creaking loudly with a lack of oil. Similar as to the game, their eyes were wide and bloodshot, jaws hung wide open. Various moans emanated from them as they staggered towards the trio, who was frozen with fear.

Each of them cursed themselves for not bringing weapons. Then heaved a small sigh of relief; had Natasha been there with them, she would've ousted them all for _not _bringing weapons before proceeding to kick...well, whatever it was' ass without a hair out of place.

"Okay, Barton, you take the left, I'll take the right...Stark...just...umm...actually, just run around and scream." Tony gave Steve a look.

"You're actually serious about this." Steve froze him out with a glare that rivaled Fury's. "Okay. Okay. I'll do it. Just as long as no one hears about this." He took off, weaving around various chairs, squealing, "HEEEEELLLPPP! I'M THE BLACK WIDOW AND I'M SO SCARED! SOMEBODY HELLLPPP MEEEEEEE!" His arms flailed in the air as he delivered his speech, knocking over a few chairs and tables in the process. Both Clint and Steve watched the scene with mild amusement, knowing that they would never see a scene like this again.

"AREN'T YOU TWO SUPPOSED TO BE KICKING ASS?" Tony shrieked at them while dodging more furniture. "I'M NOT IMPERSONATING NATASHALIE FOR NOTHING!" When the duo just raised an eyebrow at him, he added, "I KNOW SHE'S GOING TO KILL ME. NOW JUST KICK SOME ROBOT ASS ALREADY BEFORE SHE SUDDENLY SHOWS UP AND KNOWS I'M MAKING FUN OF HER!" With that, Clint and Steve launched into action, the former rocketing himself at a robot, intending to strike it with one blow.

Only to be thrown back when it retaliated at him, providing an intro for some intense hand-to-hand combat. He battled fiercely with the robot, pulling out every maneuver he had. For some reason, the robot seemed to know his every move, anticipating and counter-attacking with a grace and finesse unknown to a robot. If Clint hadn't known better, he would've sworn the robot had learned from Natasha. Almost.

"THIS ONE KNOWS ME!" he hollered to Steve. "SWITCH!" Immediately, the two switched places, Steve finally knocking out the robot as Clint dispatched the one he had been fighting. This went on for several minutes, Tony screaming his lungs out in imitation of Natasha. One of his more memorable lines was, "I CAN KILL A DIPLOMAT BUT I'M SCARED OF ROBOTSSSSS!"

Finally, the three of them stood over a sea of unconscious robots, Tony with a satisfied expression on his face.

"That wasn't too bad," he croaked. "Not a bad job for the three of us."

"You mean two," Clint quickly corrected. "I'm pretty sure what you just did ended your life." The sounds of wheezing came over a speaker, he and Steve tensing up again, ready to fight at the slightest provocation.

"Did you guys really think that was real?" the voice gasped, laughing. "Oh-my-Thor-Tony-" It took a few minutes for the voice to sink in, Tony's mouth dropping open for the fourth time that night.

"BRUCE?!"

"Oh, man, you guys got punked so badly," Bruce strode into the parlor, still clutching his sides with laughter. "That was absolutely hilarious."

"Whose idea was this?" Tony demanded, planting his hands on his hips a la Natasha. "Yours?"

"As much as I would _love _to take credit for this," the scientist answered, still chortling, "no. This was all Fury's idea. He wanted you guys to develop team bonding and strategies."

"Team strategies, my ass!" Tony exclaimed. "Wait till I get my hands on him-!" He made a motion with his hands, akin to strangling someone.

"Wait-if this was all a prank, who were the robots...?" Steve trailed off, looking utterly confused. One of the robots got up, pulling a costumed head off.

Philip Coulson.

"Philip Coulson, you absolute bastard-!" Clint had run out of words, and resorted to giving Coulson the universal insult. "What have we ever done to you?"

"I lost the pool," Coulson shrugged. "Had a hundred bucks riding on when you and Romanoff would get together."

"How many times did I tell you, we're not-!"

"Apparently not enough," Another robot pulled off their head, revealing a bemused Melinda May. She shook out her dark ponytail, grinning. "It was some _very _nice payback. Had fifty bucks riding on it myself."

"Wait. May..." Clint trailed off, comprehension dawning on his face. "Oh, Stark's so dead."

"Damn right he is," Natasha pulled off her own head in the back of the room, eyebrow raised. She turned to Tony, who had gone white. "'Can kill a diplomat but scared of robots'? Really, Stark?"

"Look, Natashalie," Tony began, putting his hands out in front of him. "I can explain, it was a totally rational action at the time..."

* * *

><p>"Did it work?" were the only words Fury uttered as he met the five Avengers, as well as Coulson and May, at the tower later that night.<p>

"Well, Stark's incapacitated," Bruce reported. "It was an...unseen circumstance."

"I am never impersonating Natashalie again," Tony moaned weakly from Steve's arms. "Ever." At Fury's curious look, Bruce hastened to add,

"Like I said. Unforeseen circumstance."

* * *

><p><strong>Read and review? All of you who read but don't review...just once? Please? Winner gets the video of Tony screaming and running around impersonating Natasha! (It's pretty good. Even has some sort of a Russian accent.) It would make my day! And if you like what you read, follow it :D<strong>

**See you guys next Saturday! :)**


	14. Replacing Clint's arrows with tampons

**I THINK I DID PHYSICS. I honestly think I did. Not to mention I passed first term with a C. Pretty good, in my opinion. Now I just have to get up to some sort of B by the end of the year...**

**Hope everyone had a good Veterans' Day, or the equivalent is wherever you are! I had to sing for the local veterans, and singing the mashup of armed forces songs was pretty awe-inspiring. :)**

**Shoutout to thinkfuzzy, GateBreaker, moneycat, Sierra Wood, Madi-Taylor16 and winter morning frost for following! :)**

**CLINTASHA, GUYS! WOOOOO! Lol. Fluffy Clintasha, actually. I feel that I have betrayed the Romanogers fandom. :( They'll be back soon. I promise.**

* * *

><p>The fifth agent went flying across the room, hitting the wall with a loud THUD. Puffs of smoke could be seen emanating from its surface as the slowly dwindling line of agents got just a little smaller, a woman actually squeaking as she fled from the room.<p>

Natasha gave the the gaggle of agents a grim smile as she dusted herself off-not that there was any dust on her clothes, anyways. She checked the elaborate French braid she'd put in for herself a couple of hours ago, needing to be in London in five hours. Yup. Five attempts at a solid sparring match and there _still _wasn't a hair out of place. "Anyone else want to try their luck?"

Everyone turned to the agent who had recently been flattened against the wall, who let out a small exclamation of "Worth it!"

"Geez, what's up with Natashalie today?" Tony muttered from the doorway, elbowing Clint. "She's never disabled that many agents in a row before." Clint gave him an incredulous look before Tony added, "SHIELD agents, that is. She usually shows them mercy."

"Mercy isn't in Tasha's dictionary," Clint joked, watching his girlfriend with concern as another agent dared to risk their life, only to meet the same fate as the previous agent as Natasha quickly took them out. He didn't miss the slight wince she had upon moving, and instantly knew the reason for her rage. "Ah. I see what's going on." No wonder she'd stayed off of the chocolate for the last few days. He should've seen it himself, but he'd recently returned from a mission in Sydney and was still settling in.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, entering the room. Upon seeing the pile of injured agents and Natasha's rage, he nodded sagely to Clint. "It's that time again, isn't it?" Clint hummed his agreement. "She backed away from the ice cream, too."

"Do you two maybe want to do me a favor and let me in the loop?" Tony demanded from the two blond men, crossing his arms with a huff. "I mean, I _do _let you three live in this tower, free of charge..."

"I'm surprised you didn't get it first, actually," Clint smirked, wincing as Natasha disposed of yet another agent. "You live with a woman. Surely this shouldn't be too hard." Tony racked his brain to think of _anything _that Natasha and Pepper would have in common. Sure, they both loved to annoy the hell out of him, and were the only women to put up with his shit, but other than that...

"I'm coming up with nothing."

"You're an idiot, Stark," Clint acknowledged, he and Steve moving aside as the remaining agents filed out of the room in defeat. "I still wonder why Pepper puts up with you." Checking to make sure that Natasha wasn't within earshot, he leaned in confidentially. "It's that time of the month." Tony's eyes widened in recognition as he processed that bit of information. _The Black Widow had periods?_

"Didn't the Red Room do something about that?" he asked quietly. Clint and Steve shrugged; they knew she wasn't allowed to have _children_, but periods? No one could tell.

"Maybe she's just PMSing," Steve suggested cautiously. "I mean, you can do that without having your actual period..." Apparently, he wasn't cautious enough, because Natasha shot one of her famous glares towards the super soldier, her green eyes flashing. He got the hint and ran from the room.

Tony chuckled to himself. So. Natashalie in a pissy mood, eh? He could have _so _much fun with this...

"Whatever you're planning, Stark, I wouldn't do it," Clint warned. "Her revenge is ten times worse when she's like this. You might not walk out of this one."

"Who says I was going to do anything?" Tony suggested, raising an eyebrow as he too left the room. The archer and the spy were the only two left. A small grimace of pain left her lips as she hobbled slightly towards him, collapsing into his arms.

"That bad, huh?" he murmured into her hair. She only nodded, clutching him tightly as another round of pain doubled her over. "And you've got to be in London in five hours?" Another nod, this time weaker. "Let's get you back to your room," he announced, hoisting her up into his arms and starting towards the elevator. "JARVIS, take her up to my floor," he called to the AI, stepping in, and the doors slid shut with a whisper, automatically beginning their descent.

"Don't...see..." were the only words Natasha managed to squeeze out, letting out an almost-sob as she was once again wracked by pain.

"Shh, Tasha, don't talk, we're almost there," he assured her, pressing a kiss onto her temple as the doors opened. He laid her onto the caramel leather couch, dashing into the kitchen for his 'oh shit Nat's on her period' emergency kit.

"I feel like shit," she confessed when Clint was back at her side, this time with painkillers and water. She took both gratefully, his blue eyes concernedly watching hers in case of a relapse. "This whole period thing is awful. No wonder May and Hill keep bitching about this every four weeks."

"Remember, you don't have to keep going in for the shots," he assured her, this time handing over a small bottle of vodka to assuage the pain. The alcohol went down easily, and he shook his head at her nonverbal insistence at wanting more. "I've told you a million times that-"

"Clint." Natasha spoke the word in staccato, her voice revealing more emotion that its delivery was meant to. "I want this. You _know _I do." She turned to him then, hugging her knees to her chest. "And I know you want it just as badly as I do, needles and pain be damned. The Red Room took away my chance at having kids," she began, her voice beginning to break. "This is my chance at getting one."

"Tash..." He gathered her into his arms then, a muffled sob escaping her as she finally broke down. _Were all women this emotional on their period? _he wondered. It was almost enough to make him want Natasha to back out of the whole 'give the Black Widow an experimental serum so maybe she can have kids' trial. But the thought of a little redheaded archer strayed across his mind, instantly erasing all doubts.

Natasha's cell phone rang then, and she eased himself out of his arms, albeit with a little discomfort, and picked up the phone. "Romanoff." Any leftover emotion in her voice was now gone, replaced by the weary tone of a battle-hardened spy. _His _spy. "Now? Fine. I'll be there in twenty." She turned to Clint, hanging up the phone with a _snap_. "My timetable's been pushed up," she told him. "I have to meet May at the hangar in twenty."

Clint swallowed the lump in his throat, hating that all of her pain went away so quickly. "Be careful."

She stopped at the door, picking up her bags, turning one last time to give him a wry smile. "You know I always am."

* * *

><p>It was a little after midnight when Natasha returned from London. The mission had gone successfully, the mark being a rookie to the game that was espionage. She'd taken him out within a second, knowing that the opium ring was out for now.<p>

What she hadn't counted on, however, was having experienced another round of cramps on the flight back to New York. It'd been so bad that May had been forced to sedate her, handing her a cup of mint tea to soothe the pain upon her awakening.

"It's like all of the cramps your original serum had withheld are doubling on you now," she'd muttered as Natasha's cramps had blessedly smoothed themselves out, leading the spy to emit an ecstatic groan. "Two leaves of mint. Spoonful of honey. One cup of water," the Asian agent had promised her as she'd departed the plane. "Works every time."

Fitting the key into the door, thermos of mint tea in one hand, she swung it open to be assaulted by a vision of white. Dark as it may be, there was no mistaking the color that covered every single surface of the residence.

"What. The. Fuck." She prodded one of the closest white things on her kitchen wall, frowning as she felt its soft texture. Was that...was that a _tampon_? Natasha flicked on the lights, groaning as she saw that, indeed, the wretched things were the mystery objects covering the wall. Amid the blizzard, there was a bright pink Post-It note stuck to a wall. Gingerly, she picked it off, skittering away from the tampon accompanying it.

_Heard about your little 'problem'_, it read. _Maybe you can just plug it up and it'll all go away..._

Stark. There wasn't anyone else who was even _remotely _capable of pulling off a stunt like this.

Natasha shook her head. She was _way _too tired to deal with this shit. She'd deal with it in the morning. Brushing off only the tampons that were barring her way, she made her way to her bedroom, immediately dropping on her bed and closing her eyes. Sleep claimed her immediately, with the aid of just what exactly she was going to do to Stark as retribution.

* * *

><p>"AAAAAAAAUUUUGHHH!"<p>

Clint's high-pitched scream (he preferred to tell everyone it was manly, but Natasha called bullshit each and every time.) filled their floor, causing her to shoot out of her bed, quickly clutching her stomach as all of the pent-up bits of her period decided to flow downwards at that exact moment. It still didn't stop her from racing down the hall to his room, bursting through the door. He sat up, instantly reacting with his bow, notching a...tampon?

"Clint?" she asked, puzzled. "What are you doing with a...tampon...in your bow?"

"Nat," he sighed, relieved. "Just you." He glanced at his bow and the tampon subsequently attached to it, letting out another yell as he realized what he'd been holding in his hand. "You didn't..._use _this one, did you?" A laugh rose out of her at that, quickly reminding her of the fact that she indeed needed another one.

"Trust me, if I used it, it would be a _whole _other color," she snickered, still grinning at the revolted look on Clint's face. He pinched it within two fingers and dropped it, getting out of bed to look for his arrows.

"They're not anywhere," he muttered. "Where are they, goddammit?"

"Where are what, Clint?"

"My arrows!" the archer exclaimed, turning over a flurry of tampons as he flipped up a pillow. "They've all been replaced...with _these _things." He refused to acknowledge the word 'tampon' out loud.

"Ah." Natasha struggled not to laugh. "Just so you should know, the living room's absolutely _covered _in them." The color drained from Clint's face as he processed what this meant.

"You mean...I have to walk through all of those..."

A cramp bowled over Natasha at this point, causing her to gasp and clutch her stomach. Clint was beside her in an instant, and she waved him off, annoyed. "It's only the first one of the day," she assured him, hobbling towards his door. "I'm going to make a run to the bathroom, and I'll be right back." As soon as she'd made it into the bathroom, she was hunched over the toilet, cursing loudly in Russian as the pain poured over her in waves. _Bloody hell indeed._

"Nat?" Clint frantically knocked on the bathroom door, panic lacing his voice. "Are you alright?"

"Clint," she gasped out, tears watering her eyes, "I need you to go see Steve,"

"Steve?" Even through the haze of pain, there was no mistaking his curiosity. "Why Steve?"

"He's got-" She swore again as the pain doubled itself. "He grows herbs in his apartment in his spare time. I need you to get me as much mint as you can."

Clint bit back the joke about marijuana. Now was not the time. Period or not, his girlfriend was the Black Widow and could still kill him from the other side of the bathroom door. "And then what?"

"Boil water and crush two mint leaves in it. Add a spoonful of honey," she explained, her voice strained. "And then hand it over to me."

"There isn't, by any chance, any blood on the bathroom floor, is there?" He had to ask the question. The janitorial staff would have nightmares if they saw that much blood. Heck, they'd probably think that Clint and Natasha had murdered someone in the bathroom and had left them to clean up the mess. "I'm not going in there if there is."

Natasha wasn't amused. "JUST DO IT, BARTON!"

"Okay, okay, okay..." Clint hurried down the hallway, stopping short at the tampon-covered living room. "Oh, damn." He slowly began to tiptoe across the living room, avoiding the tampons as if they were landmines.

"BARTON!"

He was out of their apartment in a flash.

* * *

><p>"STEVE ROGERS! OPEN UP! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!" Clint pounded on Steve's door with a little more urgency than the situation called for, but this was Natasha, goddammit. He needed to get back to her side as quickly as possible.<p>

Steve wrenched open his door, shield at the ready. "What's going on, Clint?" His normally styled blonde hair looked ruffled, evidence of the fact that some other soul had been in his apartment. He caught Clint staring at his hair, and lowered his weapon. "...and what's got you so in a tizzy that you're concerned about my _hair_?"

"Right." Clint mentally berated himself. "...do you have any mint? And could I possibly have as much of it as I can?"

"I've got mint, yes," Steve, having assessed that there was no immediate threat, opened the door wider to let the archer in. Clint did as such, wringing his hands. "And you can have as much of it was you want...but can I ask why?"

"Nat's bent double over the toilet screaming literal bloody murder," he explained. "And she told me that I have to make some sort of mint concoction. I need the mint as quickly as possible before she starts coming after me with blood dripping out of places I don't need to see."

"Of course, of course," Steve hurried over to his mini greenhouse situated next to his window, swift fingers picking quickly at the herb. "Here," he said, handing over a large bunch to Clint. "It's all I've got for now, but I should be able to get you some more in about an hour." The archer was off like a shot, shouting his thanks.

"What was that about?" Maria Hill emerged from his bedroom, sleepy-eyed. "Barton, up and awake at this hour of the morning? That I would've liked to see."

"Natasha. Period." Steve answered wearily, and she nodded.

"She's going to be bitching for the next couple of days. Hope May gave her the secret remedy."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're not reconsidering?" Clint asked Natasha once again, once they were seated at the dining table, having cleared the tampons off of it. She took another sip of her mint concoction, sighing as the cramps receded.<p>

"No way in hell," she answered with relish. "I'm going to do this. I am. No matter what it takes. The only thing I'm questioning right now is how to get back at Stark for this."

"Oh, that." Clint chuckled. "That's going to be a piece of cake." He leaned in conspiratorially. "You know how long Pepper's wanted to play a breakup joke on Tony?"

"You know what would be even better?" Natasha whispered to him, her breath tickling his face. "If she told him she was pregnant."

"After his entire day was wrecked?" A wicked grin curled across his visage. "We'd better get to it, then. Pepper's already up, and Stark's gotta sleep off his hangover."

"I love the way you think."

* * *

><p>"Clint. Nat." Pepper easily greeted the two as they danced into her office, all smiles. Still, there was no missing the small grimace that passed Natasha's face, followed by a quick hand passed across her stomach. "Ah. Have you tried Hill's mint tea method?"<p>

"Agent May gave it to me," Natasha offered gracefully, holding up a mug and downing some of the aforementioned tea. "I'm all good."

"Anyways," Clint refocused the conversation. "How would you like to help us make Tony miserable?"

"Seeing as all of our tampons recently went missing, I wouldn't hesitate to," Pepper answered offhandedly, a smirk forming on her face. Comprehension dawned on Natasha's face. So _that's _where all the tampons had come from. The poor woman hadn't stood a chance.

"Would you mind telling Tony you're pregnant?" she asked the CEO brazenly.

"Well..." Pepper fidgeted, averting her eyes from the couple. The spy sized her up instantly. Lately, she'd been avoiding the champagne, had taken to eating saltines anywhere and everywhere...was that a glow on her face?

"Holy hell," she whispered. "You're pregnant." Clint's mouth dropped open in shock. Damn. He was getting really bad at reading people.

"I don't want to tell him until the time's right," Pepper confessed. "And with all of the stress he's been under lately, that hacker getting into his system and all..." Natasha smirked. She knew it was only Coulson's new protege, Skye. There was no harm in that.

"He's safe," she assured her. "It's only one of Coulson's people." She cleared her throat and looked the other woman straight in the eyes. "So will you do it?"

Pepper sighed. "I suppose so," she answered. "I'll have to tell him sooner or later."

"Thanks, Pepper!" Clint told her excitedly, dragging Natasha out of the room. "We'll tell you what time you need to drop the bombshell later!"

"...you're welcome...?"

* * *

><p>"You need me to do what, you two?" Bruce's incredulous voice echoed off of the lab walls as Clint and Natasha delivered their case to the scientists, arms full with various colors of paint.<p>

"Lend us the new shooter you've been working on so that we can shoot cheese balls at Tony while he runs away from us," she stated, giving Bruce a puppy-dog look. "Please?"

"Please?" Clint's look mimicked hers, but only in a more manly way.

"Fine," Bruce mumbled, gesturing over to where the remodeled gun was. "It's over there."

"YES!" Clint let out a shout as he sprinted over to the gun, hefting it into his hands. "Come on, Tasha, let's go!"

"I'm shooting first!" Natasha announced, following Clint at a slower pace due to the paint in her arms.

"No way!"

"Come on, Barton, I'm on my period! A little slack?"

"Kids," Bruce muttered with a smile on his face as he returned to his work, Clint and Natasha's bickering fading out of sight.

* * *

><p>As usual, Tony's brain was fuzzy with the memories of the night before, evidence that he'd been out drinking the night before. Why had he been drinking? Oh, right, Legolas had been out for the count, Natashalie had been in London, and he'd taken the opportunity to cover their apartment in tampons (hopefully Pepper hadn't yet figured out they were gone), and he'd had a drink, congratulating himself on a job well done. He licked his lips, in need of a drink of water, and stopped when he tasted cheese.<p>

Cheese? He brought a shaky hand to his lips, the bright orange dust rubbing off onto his hand. _I don't remember having cheese balls last night... _He sat up, a pile of the snack rolling off of his bedspread onto the floor.

Tony looked around his room in horror. Cheese balls covered every inch of his room, adding an eerie orange glow to the normally red and gold atmosphere. It was very much like the method in which he'd covered Clintasha's apartment...that was never a good sign. He was willing to bet a good amount of money that the two assassins had gotten back at him for replacing Barton's arrows with tampons.

Suddenly, Tony was yanked by a pulley up into the vent above his room. He blinked a few times to dispel of the darkness. No sooner had he become used to the sight than he heard a man shout,

"MAY THE SEVENTY-FIFTH HUNGER GAMES BEGIN!"

Clint barreled at Tony lying flat on a skateboard, the wheels making loud clacking sounds as the billionaire sat there in shock, still too sleepy to process the turn of events. At the last moment, his hungover brain seemed to process that he was being chased after, and he scrambled to become mobile, crawling down the vent as quickly as he could.

He was suddenly hit in the back of the head with a projectile, not bothering to turn behind him to find out what it was. _Was Katniss actually pegging him with objects now? This really was the Hunger Games. _One of Clint's shots missed, flying way over his head. Tony stopped his escape to examine the object. A...tampon?

Great. This was the assassins' retribution, wasn't it? Clint was still coming towards him, crossbow loaded and at the ready, forcing Tony to resume his flight.

The ground seemed to drop out beneath him, and Tony was flailing as he tumbled from the vent right into the common room-straight into a large vat of yogurt. _Where had they even gotten such a large amount on such a short notice? _He wiped the yogurt out of his eyes, only succeeding on getting more up his nose.

_Snap._

A bright orange cheese ball hit his stomach, the only orange amid his now covered white body. He looked up to see Natasha smirking, holding a paintball gun with a large container of cheese balls strapped to her back.

"There's plenty more where that came from," she smirked. "This is why you never replace Clint's arrows with tampons." She ricocheted another shot off of his head, the cheese ball actually sticking. "Got it?" She slid back the slide, a sign that she was ready to start automatic firing. "You've got until three to run."

He didn't need to be told twice. Tony scrambled out of the vat, running across the room dripping yogurt, occasionally slipping on his own trail. Natasha followed after him screaming war cries, shooting cheese balls as she went. "PEPPPPPPERRRRRRRRR!"

He found her in the lab, worriedly holding her stomach. Tony ran over to her, not caring that he was covered with yogurt. "Pep, help! Clintasha's after me!"

"Tony, I wouldn't trust a pregnant lady against two pissed off assassins, whatever the hell you did..."

"You're Pep, you can do anything-wait, you're _pregnant_?" Tony stopped short of squeezing her. Pepper slowly nodded.

He dropped to the floor.

* * *

><p>"Think we can bring him to yet?" Natasha asked. She, Clint and Pepper were standing over Tony's unconscious (and yogurt-covered) body. A large bucket of ice water was in her arms, complete with blocks and all. "It's been ten minutes."<p>

"Might as well," Clint tipped over the bucket for her, knowing how much she'd wanted to be the one to do it. Tony awoke with a start.

"MEATBALLSCHEESEBALLSGOLFBALLSHUNGERGAMES-" He was cut off with a swift blow to the head, a result of Natasha elbowing Clint violently.

"Way to ruin my fun!"

"Tony? Do you remember anything?" Pepper asked her boyfriend gingerly.

"I remember the cheese balls-and the yogurt-and-oh," Tony went quiet.

"What, Tony? What is it?"

The most sincere smile the three of them had ever seen proceeded to make its way onto Tony's face. "You, Pep. You're having a baby. I'm going to be a daddy."

Clint and Natasha slowly backed out of the room, leaving the two to their intimate moment.

* * *

><p>"I can't wait for that day," Clint admitted to her as they strode down the hallway, a goofy smile on his face. "There's going to be a little redheaded archer running around the halls, playing with Pepperony's kid..."<p>

"Okay, two things." Natasha stopped him. "One, there is _no _way our kid is going to be an archer. Two-did you just call them Pepperony?"

"They call us Clintasha," he shrugged. "Seemed only fitting."

"CLINTASHA?!"

* * *

><p><strong>Read and review? Please? There's a lot of you out there who I know aren't reviewing, and these prizes are pretty darn cool for the best review. Like this one! I'm giving out the cheeseball paintball gun! For the best review! :D So if that doesn't motivate you, I don't know what will :)<strong>

**Oh, and by the way, the mint-tea-honey thing doesn't ACTUALLY work for the period...it does for a cough, though. Shuts you right up. I don't have anything to recommend for a period except for a LOT of water. **

**See everyone next Saturday! :D**


	15. Braiding Hair While the Men Are Asleep

**HEY EVERYBODY! BE EXCITED! (It may be nine o' clock at night, but the date still applies.) IT'S THE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY! Happy birthday to the AMAZING Scarlett Johansson, who turns 30 today and is pretty much the queen of everything. No lie. ALL HAIL THE BLACK WIDOW :D**

**Shoutout to ItsAKiliThing, venesa, mythnerd, isabelele, LittleMissChatterbox2009, and LightThemUp for following! :D**

**SINGLENESS! Hints at Stucky, though. I'm kind of seeing this ship right now. I don't know what's wrong with me. I have disappointed the Romanogers fandom...**

* * *

><p>"For the last time, Stark, I'm not doing it!" Steve insisted as Tony tried to approach him, mouth half-open. "I'd look like an absolute hobo, for starters, and it poses so many problems while I'm in the field."<p>

"Come on, Gramps, it's all the rage!" Tony protested, gesturing widely. "Plus, who's to say we all wouldn't look good in facial hair?"

Natasha raised both hands in the air from the kitchen island, dropping her fork onto her empty plate. "You, Stark, as a matter of fact, would look like more of a pedophile than you already were." She pulled another full plate towards her, pouring rivulets of maple syrup onto the stack.

Tony scoffed. "I thought we had something, Natashalie. I'm hurt."

"Just because I saved your ass from that five-headed dog last week does _not _constitute a relationship, Stark." She didn't even look up from the stack of pancakes she was wolfing down, having returned from a mission the day before and, to quote, 'was absolutely jonesing for some decent grub'. JARVIS was not amused at her newfound English phrasing. In fact, it seemed to be the only time he'd flat-out ignored Natasha's requests.

"You saved Barton's ass, too, and you two are dating. Doesn't that count for _something?_"

A knife whizzed past his head, and it was only through sheer reflex that Steve didn't lose an eye. "We're not dating. For the last time."

"So. Back to the issue here," Tony turned back to Steve, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "How bad can it get?"

"Not shaving for a month?" Steve demanded incredulously. "Like I said, we'd expose ourselves completely in the field, and half of us would look horrible. I'm not going to any public events sporting a scruffy beard!"

"What if you didn't have to do it alone?"

"What are you talking about, Stark?"

"We'll all do No-Shave November!" Tony exclaimed, delight lighting up his brown eyes. "You, me, Barton, Brucie, Barnes and Point Break! It'll be perfect!" Clint let out a squawk akin to his name, toppling off of his bar stool at the island.

"WHAT?!" Turning to Natasha frantically, he pleaded, "Please don't let them do this, Tasha! This means I have to actually grow a beard! I haven't tried to grow facial hair since I was sixteen!"

But Natasha completely ignored him, turning towards the two men with a pancake stuck onto her fork. "If you can get Barton to grow a beard, I'm totally in support of this entire thing."

"Done deal," Tony smirked, before turning to Clint, who had just managed to climb back onto his stool. "Barton, you do No-Shave November or I let out the feed of you singing in the shower to the general public. _The one of you singing Taylor Swift._" The archer gulped visibly. As much as he hated beards, he was sure he could put it aside for the sake of that video...

"Fine."

"Alright." Natasha shrugged, halfway through her second plate. "Sounds cool."

"Why not have a contest for the event?" Thor inquired, wandering into the kitchen. Upon sitting himself at the island, he stared at the table. "Where are the pancakes I was promised?" The spy slowly looked up from her pancakes, the fluffy food still stuffed into her mouth.

"...oops."

"Thor, I'll make you a double batch if you do No-Shave November," Tony quickly promised, moving towards the island. "All you have to do is not use a razor for a month."

"Sounds quite feasible," Thor promised. "After all, ranking is determined on Asgard by the length of one's facial hair." Everyone turned to look at his lack of beard. "I only lost mine due to...complications I was having with thunder." Their faces transformed into something that of 'Ohhhh. I get it now', and each nodded to themselves, wanting to spare themselves of that particular story.

"Alright, so I've got me, Barton, and Point Break...which brings me back to my point, Capsicle," Tony insisted to Steve, who had tried to sneak into the kitchen and was now cracking eggs into a bowl for Thor's double batch of pancakes. Heaven forbid Tony try to cook. It was almost an unspoken rule among the team that Tony wasn't allowed to cook. "You really should do No-Shave November!"

"Oh. Were we planning on doing that?" Bruce asked, stumbling in. "I was going to ask if any of you three were going to join me...I'm doing it for charity...ten dollars for an inch grown..."

"And now it's for charity!" Tony roared, thumping Steve on the back, causing him to almost miss the pan he was pouring batter into. "Come on, the great Captain America can't say no to _charity!_ That's like shooting a puppy!"

"Fine." Steve plunked the wooden spoon back into the batter bowl, setting it onto the counter. "I'll do it. _But only for charity._"

"Awesome!" Tony cheered, racing out of the kitchen. "Now all I have to do is convince Barnes..." His voice faded down the hall as he scampered down to Bucky's bedroom, banging on the door. "Oy! Buckaroo! We have something to ask you!"

"Five bucks says he's going to get thrown a couple hundred feet in the next five seconds," Clint suggested casually. Steve and Natasha nodded, the former sliding a spatula under the pancake in the pan to flip it over. Sure enough, the loud THUD that could only be Tony's body was heard, and a disheveled Bucky Barnes made his way into the kitchen, eyes squeezed shut in frustration.

"Well, scratch that off the daily to-do list," Bruce muttered, setting some water to boil. "Now all that's left is for Tony to make a bet and for Clint to bet some exorbitant amount of money." Clint glared at him. "It's true! You bet every single time Stark makes up some insane idea!"

"It's for charity," Steve offered as Bucky sent him a questioning look. "Bruce was going to do it alone, but I heard it was for charity, so..."

"Which charity?"

Bruce easily sipped his tea. "Well, I'm donating towards the local Boys and Girls Club, but feel free to donate wherever you want..."

"I'm not awake yet," Bucky snorted, his head hitting the table. "First, coffee. Then we'll talk." Clint immediately slid him his mug, silver with a red star emblazoned on it, filled with straight up black coffee. Bucky sipped it gratefully, letting out a sigh.

"I'll do it." Steve nearly dropped his stack of pancakes in shock. "But only if there's a charity that deals with victims of HYDRA and similar organizations."

Natasha looked down at the table. Clint suddenly perked up. The Black Widow, embarrassed. Clearly, this was news. Steve picked up on the vibe as well, for he turned from the stove to stare at her, not quite comprehending the turn of events. First, Bucky agreeing to not shave for a month? That was like asking Thor to give up Pop-Tarts. (And trust him, had they tried.) And secondly, 'Natasha' and 'embarrassed' never went into the same sentence. Something was up.

"There is one," the redhead admitted in a small voice. "I founded it."

Clint dropped his mug.

Thor choked on his pancakes.

Steve nearly missed the pan.

Even Bruce had to look up from his tea in surprise.

It was Bucky who broke the silence. "You never told us that."

"I just didn't see it as something to bring up." She shrugged.

"Well, that settles it," Steve said decisively. "We'll all donate to Nat's charity. Ten dollars an inch."

"Longest beard gets to donate an extra hundred thousand." Tony announced grandly, re-entering the room, apparently having gotten over being thrown three hundred feet. "Shortest has to work with Pepper for a month." The team collectively winced. Working with a pregnant Pepper was never an easy ride. Still, each of them nodded solemnly, now dedicated to the cause of Natasha's charity, knowing the aftereffects of HYDRA's work.

Clint formally issued the challenge. "It's on, boys."

* * *

><p><strong>November 3rd<strong>

_Goodness, the man slept like a rock,_ Clint observed as he slowly creaked open the door to Steve's room, having picked the lock a minute ago. _Had someone sedated him or something? _It didn't matter, for whoever it had been allowed Clint a decent window in which to sneak in, dye the super soldier's stubble purple, and get out without anyone noticing. Creeping up to him, Clint uncapped the bottle of purple hair dye, gently applying it to the still-sprouting hairs on Steve's chin. From a distance, it would simply look like someone had spilled purple paint on his chin. Which, in a way, was funnier than a purple beard. Having completed his job, he crept back out of the room, freezing when Steve groaned and rolled over. _Please don't let him sleep on his belly, _Clint found himself praying. _The dye job's going to get on his sheets. _Thankfully, Steve only rolled to his side, leaving the archer to exhale and slowly back the rest of the way out of the room. Once clear of the doorway, he bolted for his own room, wanting to be as far away as he possibly could when the storm hit.

He didn't know the half of what he'd started.

* * *

><p>"WHY IS MY CHIN PURPLE?!"<p>

Steve's shout rattled the walls of the entire building, resulting in Tony flying another hundred feet than Bucky had already thrown him that morning. The entire team had already gathered at breakfast, at a loss for what to cook-Steve was usually the first one up in the mornings, so the fact that he hadn't awoken until now was really quite alarming. On one hand, his shout had told them he was alive and well, but...

"Purple, you say, Steve?" Clint snickered as Steve stormed into the room. "You could start a new trend. Like a Smurf. But purple." At his glare, he raised an eyebrow. "Really, Steve? You haven't heard of the Smurfs? Seriously?"

"Introduce me to them sometime," he snapped, turning to glare at Tony. "Stark. My chin is _purple_."

Tony let out a genuine squeak of surprise. "You think it was ME?!" Steve just raised an eyebrow at him. "Look, man, my wife had a craving for spring rolls at 2AM. You know how hard that is?" He tiredly held up his coffee cup, which was black with a red spider in it. "I'm tired. Tired enough that I took Natashalie's mug and didn't care enough whether I died or not." Bruce nodded sympathetically. There was tired, and then there was 'I'm going to defy Natasha before coffee' tired.

"Well, if it wasn't you, then who was it...?" Clint cleared his throat uncomfortably, and it was then that he saw the purple smudges on the archer's fingerpads. "_You_!"

"Well, I mean, it only looks like you have a purple chin for now...?" he offered as a peace gesture.

Steve's eyes slitted to blue lines. "You've just started a prank war, Barton. And with a month with Ms. Potts on the line, I have no intention to lose this competition."

Clint gulped. Oh, shit.

* * *

><p><strong>November 10th<strong>

"Are you sure this is not in violation of the event?" Thor asked nervously, holding Loki up by the scruff of his coat. "It _is _the disappearance of facial hair, after all..."

"Trust me, Thor, it's perfectly legal," Steve answered, arms crossed. He, Thor, and Loki (specially recruited for the occasion) were in the tower's security room, currently watching the feed of Clint on his floor. The archer was splayed out on his couch, boredly flipping through channels on the TV. "There is nothing to be said about making it disappear. _Cutting it off _is a complete violation of the thing. Which is to say, you'd probably need to stop me if I went after Barton with a razor..."

"By all means, continue your conversation," Loki deadpanned. "It's simply _thrilling _to be held up by the scruff of my coat by my absolute oaf of a brother." Steve smacked him. "Ow! Watch it, mortal. This is genuine Asgardian leather."

"Just shut up and make his beard disappear, Loki." Since having his stubble dyed purple, Steve hadn't taken kindly to sarcasm in his direction. The only one brave enough to sass him these days was Natasha, which he took with a sigh and an upraised middle finger.

"As you wish, sir," he answered sarcastically, doing a complicated motion with his finger. They watched on camera as Clint's unfortunate attempt at a beard shot back into his chin, the archer not having noticed a thing. "There. Are the masses satisfied now?"

"Quite." Thor readjusted his grip on his brother and began to head towards the elevator, ready to deposit him back in his cell. "Though I shall not fancy asking Friend Barton where his facial hair has gone..."

* * *

><p>It wasn't Steve or Thor who asked the question first, though. No, it was Bucky, of all people, who had taken the time to look up from the lunch spread to ask Clint a question. One that immediately died on his lips once he saw Clint's clean-shaven jaw.<p>

"You shave, Barton?"

"What? Of course not..." Clint absentmindedly replied, putting a hand to his chin. "Why would ask that..." He trailed off as he found a lack of hair. "WHERE'S MY BEARD?!"

"I daresay the beard fairy up and shaved it off," Natasha innocently suggested, trying to not to burst out laughing at the archer's horrified expression. "Must've really wanted your beard. Maybe they thought it'd help their beard finding skills."

"Fuck off, Tasha." At that moment, Steve strode in, looking absolutely pleased with himself. Seeing Clint's face, he inquired,

"You okay, Barton?"

"YOU!" Clint realized in a moment, dramatically pointing a finger at the super soldier. "You shaved my beard!"

"Barton, you sound insane," Steve laughed. "How could I have shaved off your beard?" He raised both eyebrows at him. "I'm not magical. Last time I checked."

"Well, of course not, unless you-unless you-Loki." Clint's fists. clenched. "I'm going to kill the bastard." He abandoned his plate and stalked towards the elevator, it silently opening for him. There was silence.

"I'm going for the lasagna on his plate," Natasha quipped finally, reaching her fork over. "Anyone else?" Tony stared at Steve, an incredulous look on his face.

"I can't believe it! Our little Gramps is all grown up! He actually played a prank on Legolas!"

"You can't prove it was me," Steve scoffed. "Again. I'm not magical."

"Please," Tony countered. Bruce and Bucky leaned forward, wanting to hear the banter. "Don't sass me, Capsicle. One, you're very bad at it. I'm going to have to work with you on that. Two, you're the only one that had access to Loki's cell _and _the control room. I'm guessing Point Break gave you a hand."

"Fine," Steve grudgingly admitted. "But I have to walk around with the tip of my beard purple for the next twenty days. My suit isn't even purple! Couldn't he at least have dyed it blue? Or red?"

"Apparently not," Bucky supplied. "But I mean, the combination of red and blue _is _purple..."

Steve just shot a glare at him.

* * *

><p><strong>November 13th<strong>

"You're just wailing on the pranks here, aren't you, Capsicle?" Tony muttered as Steve roused him at five AM, blue eyes gleaming. "Is this for the seventy years you spent under ice or something?"

"Pranks of this caliber didn't exist back in the forties," Steve shrugged. "Now. Can I borrow your hair gel?"

"_This _is what you woke me up at the crack of dawn for?" Tony complained. "After three hours trying to make the _perfect _kale smoothie for Pep? By the way...we're out of kale." Steve accepted that with a nod as Tony rummaged through his bathroom cabinet, finally surfacing with a bottle full of shiny, clear liquid. "Here. Fresh off of the assembly line. Don't use too much of it. Can I go back to bed?"

Steve nodded, taking the bottle. "Tell Pepper I'll make her breakfast when she wakes up."

"She'll like that." The two parted ways, Steve on his way to Bucky's room, Tony back to the comfort of his bed and pregnant wife.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, a curl here, a bend here, snap it up here...<em> Steve was carefully crafting a handlebar out of Bucky's semi-full mustache. He would've messed with the beard, but you simply couldn't have as much fun with a beard as you could with a mustache. "And..done." He snapped the bottle of gel closed, gently blowing on the mustache to make the gel dry. The hair gel had been chemically altered by Bruce for maximum staying power, enough to keep a hairstyle for weeks if one wanted to. That is, providing Tony ever went weeks without sleeping. Luckily, a very pregnant Pepper had been quite persuadable. Steve wasn't sure if he'd ever seen more blackmail tactics being used in so short a succession of time. "Mission accomplished," he told himself, quietly creeping out of the room.

"Please tell me you two aren't secretly sneaking into each other's rooms late at night," came the deadpan voice of Natasha behind him as he creaked the door shut. Steve quickly whirled around to see the spy with her arms crossed, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"No, we're not-I mean, I'm not-" In his haste to defend himself, Steve exposed the bottle of hair gel, which he'd been keeping behind his back, hoping Natasha would simply walk away. He should've known better that it would put her into interrogation mode.

"Ah. So you two _are _sleeping with each other."

"Natasha!" he quietly flinch-shouted, the beginnings of a blush beginning to creep up his neck. She smirked. Good to see he hadn't _totally _adjusted himself to modern society. "I am _not_, and I repeat, _not_, sleeping with Bucky! It's not funny!" he snapped at her, as she doubled over with silent laughter.

"It kind of is," she retorted, gasping quickly for breath. "Why else would you have hair gel?"

"I'm styling his mustache," Steve loftily responded, posing dramatically with the bottle. "Why are _you _up at six AM, may I ask?" He glanced down the hall, where the elevator was. "Sneaking out of Barton's, I see."

Her laughter quickly faded to give him a withering glare. "No, I am _not _sleeping with Barton," she affirmed in a deadly tone. "He has a girlfriend. Jemma Simmons. She's on Coulson's bus team." They locked each other in a staredown, green refusing to move from blue. At long last, she nonchalantly broke her gaze. "I'm heading out for a run. You in?"

"Give me five minutes."

* * *

><p>"I'd suggest you'd start running, Steve," Bruce advised him when he entered the kitchen. "Bucky's trying to figure out who gave him a permanent handlebar mustache."<p>

He didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

><p><strong>November 16th<strong>

"Tony! Tony! TONY STARK!" Pepper's enraged voice shook Tony out of the first restful sleep he'd had in months. "You didn't come to bed last night! I had an ugly craving for macaroons!" Whew. Lucky he'd picked tonight to fall asleep at his lab desk. Those would've been hard to find at 3 AM. He tried to pick his face up off of the desk, figuring out that he couldn't.

Or, maybe tonight was a _really _bad night to fall asleep at his desk. Someone (and he had a very good inkling who) had decided to superglue him to the surface of the desk.

"Tony. Lift your head up, for God's sake. I know you're tired, but you can't be _that _tired. Nat told me about the morning you stole her mug."

"I'd love to lift my head up, Pep, but I can't," Tony answered, his words coming out as a muffled response. "Bruce superglued me to the desk." Unfortunately, his words came out as "Mmmphfdsfhdsj sksf."

"I can't hear you, Tony. Lift your head up."

"CAN'T!" The one word made it to Pepper's ear. "BRUCE! SUPERGLUE! DESK!"

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," she consoled. "All we have to do is cut your beard off and you'll be good to go..." She was met with a loud, muffled response that somehow contained the words 'no shave november' and 'competition'. "Oh come on, Tony. It'll just be a few inches. Plus, you're never going to get off of this desk otherwise, and even _I _know that you like to get up and torture Steve every now and then."

"I wouldn't touch his beard," Bruce strolled into the lab, smirking. Catching the murderous look on Pepper's face, he quickly backtracked, "Do you want me to find the dissolving agent, Ms. Potts?"

"I would like that _very much_."

* * *

><p>"Tony, I think you've got a little bit of something on your beard..." Clint remarked offhandedly as he reached for another stack of waffles, this morning being chocolate chip and blueberry. "Can't really tell what it is." Tony just grumbled and picked at his (now shortened) beard, wincing slightly as he encountered a bit of glue.<p>

"If I didn't know better, I would almost say you got superglued to your desk," Bucky commented. Tony's eyes trained on him, wide. "What? I've superglued people to objects before. The result was always pretty good."

"You mean like the time I had to walk around with a rolled-up rug attached to my ass for three hours?" Steve teased, tossing him a waffle.

"Exactly that."

* * *

><p><strong>November 20th<strong>

"Tasha. You hear that?" Clint asked nervously as a loud roar sounded throughout the whole building. He and Natasha were calmly inhaling their daily dose of caffeine (well, as calmly as one could do that sort of thing) when they'd heard it, her eyes going wide while he slopped some coffee down the front of his shirt.

"That sounds...unnecessarily like...the Hulk..."

"Shit." they said together, scrambling off of their stools just as Steve burst into the room, shield in hand.

"Okay, so it wasn't you two, and I've got Bucky about five feet behind me..." His words were cut off by Bucky dashing into the room, comically colliding with Steve's back.

"Jesus, Rogers," he grinned, dusting himself off. "You gotta stop putting on muscle. Making me look like an absolute pansy, you are."

"Not my fault, I spar with the man with a metal arm," he cheekily retorted. Clint and Natasha glanced at each other, thinking the exact same thing. _Those two really needed to get it on._

"Friends, I fear Friend Banner has unleashed his alter identity!" Thor dashed into the room, hammer aloft. "We must take care of the situation as soon as possible!"

"And it wasn't Thor..." Steve, Clint and Natasha said in unison. "Stark."

"Superglue." Clint and Natasha echoed. Steve looked slightly hurt at being left out of the loop. "You'll get it next time," they told him, still overlapping with each other. Bucky just stared at the both of them.

"Damn. You sure you two aren't sleeping with each other?"

"Trust me, if we were, he wouldn't even _give _me time to finish his sentence," Natasha cheekily replied, heading towards the elevator. "Come on. We've got a Hulk to de-tame. Then a Stark to kill." Clint soon followed with Thor, leaving a very confused Steve and Bucky in the dust.

"Did she just imply..."

"I think so..."

* * *

><p>"So that's five pancakes, ten waffles, six eggs, a pack of bacon, three hash browns, and eight sausages," Steve announced, setting the large dinner plate in front of the now exhausted Bruce. "I miss anything?"<p>

"The tea," Bucky announced, setting Bruce's trademark green mug in front of him, already steaming with a cup of green tea. "But I figured you weren't far behind."

"Look at it this way, Bruce," Pepper offered kindly. "We didn't have to cut off any of your beard."

"And Tony's video of him drooling over Kate Upton is now on the newsfeeds," Natasha answered cheerfully. "Not to mention the fact that he's hanging off of the Statue of Liberty...again."

"Doesn't matter, guys," Bruce offered sulkily, picking up his fork. "I still Hulked out."

"Tony superglued you to the desk," Clint answered, stealing some of his hash browns and popping them into his mouth. "If I were you, I would've Hulked out too."

Natasha smacked him. "Don't steal his food." Clint swallowed his bite, scowling slightly. "The poor man's obviously feeling bad about Hulking out, and you're eating his only source of comfort?"

"Sleeping together," Pepper coughed. Clint and Natasha just looked at her. Since when had she defected to the dark side? "Don't tell me you guys aren't. I'm not falling for that bullshit, you two."

"Pep, you know better than anyone I have a girlfriend," Clint sighed, stabbing at his own meager stack of pancakes. "Sleeping with Tasha would be like sleeping with my sister. And I don't sleep with my relatives. Besides," he added around a mouthful of food, "Jemma keeps me _very _satisfied." Bruce spat out some food in shock.

"Hey! That took a decent ten minutes," Steve scolded. "Don't spit it out." Bruce scoffed mockingly at that, mildly grinning at Steve as he took a sip of his tea.

"Then you might want to tell Barton to stop making innuendos or I won't eat a damn thing," he drawled. "And that's a shame."

"Barton, no one wants to hear about your sex life. Like they don't want to hear about your secret collection of PEZ dispensers. Okay?" This time, Bruce _and _Clint choked to hear Steve using such foul language. Thor just gave him an appraising look.

"My friend, Mister Barnes has taught you much in the ways of sarcasm."

"I live to serve." Bucky took a deep bow.

* * *

><p><strong>November 26<strong>

"Movie night!" Thor exclaimed as the entire team piled into the living room. "The monthly event that brings us all together in a round of drinking, films, and food..."

"We get it, Thor, buddy," Steve chuckled. Everyone was in a good mood. The last six days had passed without incident, allowing the men to grow out their beards to unknown lengths. Thor's almost touched the floor, Clint's had made a significant recovery and was almost past his shoulders, and Steve's was just past his stomach, the tips a light shade of lavender. Bucky's mustache had a habit of poking into anyone he ran into, the hair gel not having worn off quite yet. Both Bruce and Tony were still picking bits of glue out of their beards occasionally. Bruce's had made considerable improvement, and was at par with Clint's, but Tony's was the shortest, Pepper having cut off a good three-quarters of what he'd had when freeing him from the results of Bruce's prank. "Movie nights are fun for all of us."

"Not this time," Natasha quipped icily from the other end of the room. She had been an ugly victim of Tony's misguided revenge on Bruce, part two, and had woken up to a pillow superglued to her head on the twenty-fourth. Being that fabric would have stuck onto her hair no matter what, she'd been forced to get a dramatic haircut, and her scarlet locks, once chin-length, were now tousled into a short pixie, radically altering her appearance. She definitely wasn't going on any seductress missions anytime soon. Not until her hair grew back, anyways.

She was _so _going to kill Stark once Pepper had the baby. She may have been cold-hearted, but only the coldest of the cold would leave a baby without a father.

"It's Harry Potter night!" Clint exclaimed, flipping through the channels. "They're showing all eight movies in a row!"

"Quick challenge," Tony announced. "Shots every time Draco Malfoy shows up."

"Hot Pocket shot for every time someone says a spell." Bruce added, said food already in his arms. Tony grinned and ran to get the alcohol.

"I think I'd rather not puke my guts out tonight," Natasha answered as she plopped down onto the couch next to Clint. "You two have fun with that."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets<strong>_

"I must say, I am unaccustomed to staring at the screen for so long," Thor muttered drowsily as Draco Malfoy appeared on screen yet again, Tony downing another shot glass' worth of alcohol. "I think I shall rest my eyes for a wee bit..." He was soon out cold, snoring. Gingerly, Clint moved himself away from the sleeping god, scooting closer to Natasha. She snickered, wiggling over to Steve, who was raptly watching the movie with an awed look in his eyes. So was Bucky.

"_Tallentallegra!" _on-screen Malfoy shouted. Bruce ate another Hot Pocket. It was his third box of the night, and they were only on their second movie. They'd have to draw straws soon to see who was going to have to put up with a stuffed Bruce Banner. By the way Tony was downing the alcohol, it definitely wasn't going to be him.

* * *

><p>"The slime...oh, ew, the slime..." Steve whimpered. "It's all green and-" He let out a girly scream as the basilisk lunged towards Harry, fangs bared. "OH MY GOD IT'S COMING FOR ME!" With a slump, he hit the ground, Bucky regarding him with a bemused grin.<p>

"I know, I know." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "My best friend is a wimp."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban<strong>_

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" Clint shouted, gesturing at the screen as the banshee shifted into a large spider. "THAT'S NOT PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE!"

"I thought you said you've seen all the movies," Bucky drawled at him from his position on the ground, where Steve was still unconscious. "Shouldn't you be used to this now?"

"He shouts out everything wrong with the physics every time he watches one of the movies," Natasha answered for him, Clint still shouting something about 2-D motion and gravity. "You learn to tune it out eventually." Bucky just nodded, returning his gaze to Steve.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU NEED TO FREAKING PULL UP INSTEAD OF SIDEWAYS, THE FORCE TENSION-" One minute, Clint was shouting full throttle at the screen, Tony egging him on, and the next minute, it was silent except for the movie and Stark's greedy drinking.

"I do believe you've lost your voice, Barton," Bucky remarked. The look on Natasha's face was of pure relief. She'd been halfway to going deaf. Clint squeaked at that realization, eyes wide, and promptly passed out, lying on the floor next to Steve.

"Oookay..." Bucky roughly got off of the floor, settling onto the couch next to Natasha. "Those two plus Stark and Banner's shots are making the floor a little crowded."

" 'S why you always take the couch to begin with," she quipped, curling up to watch the rest of the movies in peace.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire<strong>_

"Too...many...Hot Pockets..." Bruce fell prone to the floor, a Hot Pocket still in his hand. Natasha examined him. Was he actually snoring? She then reached down to pick up a Hot Pocket and ate it. _Mm. These were good. _

"I'm going to pass out," Bucky announced matter-of-factly to Natasha and Tony, who was now feverishly drinking with all of the appearances of Draco Malfoy. Four bottles littered the floor, with the fifth about to be discarded. Yet the billionaire was still going strong. "Floor seems good," he mumbled, slumping next to Steve. Natasha smirked at the both of them lying next to each other, one drawn to the other by a random force of gravity. Slowly, she raised her phone to snap a picture. This was _so _going on Instagram.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix<strong>_

"So it's just you and me, Natashalie," Tony slurred, halfway through his fifth bottle of vodka. "You wanna do stuff? I promise I'll be gentle,"

If he hadn't been drunk off of his ass, she probably would've killed him right then and there just for suggesting it. Instead, she swiped the bottle he was currently drinking and took a large quaff, relishing the burn of the vodka going down her throat. "Mm. Not today, Stark."

"Good, because I don't think I can do anything with fucking Malfoy showing up all the time..." Tony swayed once, then twice, then was out like a light, curled up next to Bruce.

_Their beards were just so __long__..._

Never had all of the men been out at one time. Especially with those epically long beards. And they _had _been pranking each other all month...She scowled as a short burst of heat whiffed at her hair, pulling it up slightly. _They __would__ look nice if their beards were braided together..._

* * *

><p>"Guys...? What happened?" Tony opened his eyes blurrily, attempting to move his head sideways. There was a small tugging on his beard on both sides. In the corner of his peripheral vision he saw Steve tugging at...Bruce?<p>

"Stark? What's going on?"

"I think we're stuck together," Tony whispered back to him, pulling at his beard. "By our beards."

"Ugh. I had to wake up next to you, didn't I?" Bucky groaned, nudging Tony. "I couldn't wake up next to Banner. Or Steve. I had to get _you_."

"Hey, in my defense, I'm really fun once you get to know me,"

"Cut the bullshit, Stark," Clint had woken as well, and was now uncomfortably pulling at the right side of his beard attached to Bucky's. "Why are we stuck together?"

"I don't remember much," Bruce answered groggily. "I ate too many Hot Pockets at _Harry Potter 4..._"

"Same," Bucky echoed, still tugging at his mustache. "This is actually _really _uncomfortable."

"I passed out at the third one," Clint croaked. "In fact, I'm still sure I can't use my voice."

"The more, the better," Steve muttered. "I passed out before you, which was great." He shuddered. "Fucking basilisks."

"Has it been my imagination, or has Friend Rogers just uttered a foul word?" Thor was awake, and the party was complete. "And why do I seem to be attached to Friends Banner and Stark?"

"We're definitely dreaming." Bucky declared. "Steve would _never _swear in real life." Steve nodded at Tony, who punched Bucky in revenge.

"Enjoying being stuck together, boys?"

Natasha's well-rested voice echoed from the kitchen, and Clint and Steve looked up to see the spy with a large pot of coffee in her hands. "I gotta say, it was a good piece of work. Instagram is very pleased."

Clint and Tony sputtered. "_INSTAGRAM?_"

"The Avengers' beards braided together," she mused, walking over to Clint and holding up the jug, to which he silently opened his mouth. She poured some coffee in, adding sugar and half and half as needed. Clint swished and swallowed, wincing as some of the black coffee made his way down his throat. Bucky was next, preferring to drink it straight black.

"Can I have alcohol instead?" Tony asked.

He was promptly covered in coffee.

* * *

><p><strong>This might be the longest one to date. I think it is, actually...so please pretty please give me a review for this one? I shirked a <em>lot <em>of homework for this one! The best review gets a meal from Steve! All of the food you can eat! Really! Please make my day... :)**

**Soo...here's the thing. Next week is Black Saturday...which means I'm going shopping, and then going to a friend's for a secondary Thanksgiving celebration...I'll try to update if I can, but I might be shooting for Sunday next week. Sorry if it breaks anyone's Saturdays :(**


	16. Tony and Cooking

**Happy Thanksgiving weekend to anyone that's out there celebrating it! To anyone else, I'm sorry I didn't get to update yesterday. I've been eating nonstop since Thursday, and it was a holiday, so here I am...**

**And. I got hit with a really cracky crossover plot earlier this week which I just mashed out with a friend, so I might start writing that...but NaNoWriMo's over, and I lost, but that means more time for fanfic! **

**Shoutout to Books are awesome01, Angel210142, and nkowaliuk for following! (LOL. I just figured out that because it's Sunday night, not a lot of people are going to catch the update...low numbers this week, then xD)**

**ROMANOGERS. I felt a bit traitorous, because I'm reading quite a bit of Nat x May and Nat x Skye (oh, you AoS ships...) Anyways, enjoy! :)**

* * *

><p>"Tell me something's not burning," Natasha groaned from the covers as the smell of acrid smoke permeated the air. "PLEASE tell me something's not burning." She risked sticking her head out of the blankets, yawning as she glanced around the still-dark bedroom. Sniff. "Dammit. There is."<p>

"It's too early for something to burn," Steve agreed from her other side, burrowing deeper into the blankets, much to Natasha's displeasure. "Tony doesn't start blowing stuff up until ten am." He chanced a glance at his alarm clock, which lay innocently on the nightstand next to him. "And it's...dear God, it's four-thirty."

"You go find out what he's doing," she protested, weakly attempting to tug back the covers Steve had stolen from her. "I don't wanna get out of bed. You stole the covers last night; I was freezing."

"_You_ do it," he retorted. "I did it the last time; Tony nearly threw a chicken out the window. And I'd like to mention that you nearly kicked me in the stomach at around two trying to get them back."

"WHERE IS TONY STARK AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM?!" There was the sound of breaking glass and the protest of the smoke detector, both making the soldier and spy dig deeper into their cocoons.

"It's not even light out, and Barton decides he'll piss off Stark." Natasha drawled. "Lovely. At least none of us have to get out of bed to figure out what the hell's going on." She snuggled deeper into Steve, who chuckled at the display of affection. She'd kill anyone who found out she was a cuddler.

"I know you two are awake!" Clint knocked on their door rapidly, almost splintering it in the process. "Can you two _please _come out here and help me knock Tony back into his right head?"

Her only response was a knife thrown at the door. "Fuck off, Barton. It's four thirty. Your own damn fault for waking up. It ever occur to you he's drunk or something?" Her arm, which had briefly snaked out of the comforter to throw the knife, was quickly drawn back in. "Dammit, did someone turn on the air conditioning last night or something?"

"No, that's the bad part. Stark's dead sober."

"Shiiiitttttt..." She was fully awake now, despite a half-drowsy Steve trying to pull her back to him. "Come on, Steve. Stark's cooking. _Voluntarily._"

"On Thanksgiving?" At that, his blue eyes shot wide open with fear. "On Thanksgiving. _It's Thanksgiving!_" He quickly scrambled out of bed, Natasha stealing the blankets almost reflexively. "I gotta cook and everything!"

"You're cooking turkey, Cap? Thank God." The relief was evident in Clint's voice. "I don't think I could handle Stark trying to tell the difference between a turkey and a chicken again. He threw the chicken out the window last year, remember?" He took the silence to interpret that as a solid _yes_.

"Steve." Natasha's voice muffled itself out from the tangle of blankets, causing him to stop with one leg in his jeans. "We need a backup dinner."

"What's a backup dinner?" The super soldier was completely foreign to the idea. Making extra food in case the original meal fell through? And what if they hadn't had a need for the second set? What a waste of food. Then again, he wasn't the one paying for it, after all...

"Another one of everything." She turned over so that she was facing him, propping her head on her elbow. "Turkey, vegetables...whatever the hell it is people eat on Thanksgiving." Her emerald eyes were filled with seriousness, something that Steve missed in the dark as he hurriedly pulled his jeans on. "I'll be damned if I don't have a decent Thanksgiving with-" She suddenly shut her mouth, drawing his attention.

"With what?" Having finally gotten his jeans on, he went over to Natasha, perching on the edge of the bed. "Nat, what are you talking about?" A thought suddenly hit him. "Oh, God, you're not breaking up with me on Thanksgiving, are you? Because that's just a whole other world of cruel that I don't even think _you're _capable of."

She let out a laugh then, a respondent, rich velvet flow of music despite the early hour. "No, I'm not breaking up with you. God, no." He leaned in to kiss her then. "That's for Christmas." He froze. "Babe." She picked her head up to meet his lips. "I'm joking. Go get groceries."

* * *

><p>"I swear he's been kidnapped," Clint ranted at a more decent hour of the morning, pacing back and forth in the living room. Tony was singing merrily in the kitchen, accompanied by the clanging of pots and pans. "Someone's taken the real Tony Stark and replaced him with this one. Only they screwed up badly. The <em>real <em>Tony Stark doesn't cook-he just sits, bitches, and drinks."

"Oh, shut up, Legolas," Tony called back, head immersed deep in the refrigerator. "I just want to make a meal for my lovely wife and unborn child. Is that such a crime?"

"If you're the one cooking, yes, it is," Clint muttered.

Thor scratched his head. "I am fairly sure that Loki hath not been near Friend Stark for quite some time. This paradox is quite baffling." Even the Asgardian knew better than to let Tony near cooking utensils on any occasion whatsoever.

Bruce entered the room, holding a vial of blood and squinting at it confusedly. "There's nothing wrong with his blood work. I've checked it five times and there isn't anything in it. No toxins, no drugs...there isn't even an elevated level of alcohol!" He sighed and lowered the flask, looking at Clint. "As scientifically impossible as this may be, I think Tony actually wants to cook."

"I think we may or may not have to film this," Pepper announced, waddling in. She was quite pregnant now, at the point where she waddled everywhere she went, much to the men's amusement. "Tony's actually cooking for once. Should I call the world record committee? Or whatever I need to get this inthe history books?"

"I resent that comment," Tony snorted as he took a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. "I can cook just as well as any of you."

"As well as Tasha, maybe," Clint snorted. "We're talking about the one who manages to burn cereal." He was promptly hit in the side of the head with a pillow.

"Says the man who thought that onions and garlic were the same thing. Remind me how Bobbi puts up with you again?"

* * *

><p><em>After the potatoes have been boiled, let them sit for fifteen minutes. Take them out and slice them, then place into a large pot for mashing. Mash until creamy, then add butter, salt, pepper, cream and garlic to taste.<em>

"Garlic?" Tony muttered. "Why the hell would anyone put garlic in their mashed potatoes? Why not white wine?" Still, this was Pepper's Thanksgiving, and he was hell-bent on making sure the entire meal was done right, beginning to end. The potatoes had been sliced and boiled, and were now sitting at the bottom of a large soup pot, ready to be mashed. All he had to do was find a masher and he'd be ready to go.

Wait. Where _was _the masher?

"JARVIS?" he whispered, not wanting anyone to know he wasn't even capable of finding a simple kitchen utensil. Personally, he thought he'd done great by making it this far. He'd sliced potatoes and boiled them-Clint couldn't even boil water. "Where's the potato masher?"

"In the second drawer to the right, Sir," JARVIS, ever so discreet, opened the correct drawer with a loud clattering of utensils. Tony scurried over to the drawer, picking out the masher with ease.

"Alright, one, two three-" He brought the masher down with all of his strength, expecting to at least reduce _one _potato to bits. But when Tony opened his eyes, there was no sign of potato bits at all. In fact, all of the potato slices were still solid.

He tried again, this time making more of an Asgardian effort. Still nothing. What was he doing wrong? Tony brought down the masher repetitively, making more of a hacking motion than that of mashing. Suddenly, one of the potato slices in the pot slipped out of the grasp of the masher, flying an impressive distance for a small piece of starch. It arced across the room, past the couch...

...and right through the window with a loud tinkle. Tony had just broken a window. With a potato.

"Well, there go the potatoes," Clint deadpanned, following the billionaire's shocked gaze. "Pro tip. I wouldn't mention this to Pepper. She's not going to want to fix a window on Thanksgiving Day." He reached into the pot and brought out a potato, weighing it in his hand. "Tony, did you get potatoes or did you get taro? I swear, if you went to that Asian supermarket in downtown Manhattan again..."

"Looks like he got coconuts," Bruce proclaimed, examining the object in Clint's outstretched hand. "Nope," he declared shortly, popping the 'p'. "Definitely taro. I'll take those," he said to Tony, "they'll make a good taro and pork." Both the billionaire and archer were left stunned as the scientist headed to the elevator whistling, pot in hand.

* * *

><p>"Can you at least <em>tell <em>me what we're going to be eating?" Natasha demanded as Steve purposely pushed his cart through the aisles of the local Whole Foods. "Vegetables? Meat? Are we eating some weird Mexican food?" He raised an eyebrow at that, and she shrugged, putting her palms up. "Hey. Missions get weird. If Clint can make anything, it's a mean churro."

"How about the turkey?" he challenged, hefting the thirty-pound bird into the cart. Surveying the bird, he frowned. "Think we'll need another bird?"

"Knowing that we're eating with two super-sized appetites and a very pregnant lady? _Yes_." Steve rolled his eyes and put another bird into the shopping cart. "...That's not a_ fresh_ turkey, is it?"

"...Yes, what's wrong with a fresh turkey?" Steve asked. "Never had frozen turkey in my day, not gonna start now." Natasha promptly picked up the turkey and threw it gently back into the freezer, exchanging it for a frozen one.

"Let's go frozen. You know, _let it go_ and whatnot..."

"You know fresh is technically better than frozen," he argued, switching the birds back again. "You don't know what's been put into the frozen turkey. Fresh is as fresh as it can get."

"You can get just as sick with a fresh turkey," she retorted, switching the birds he'd just picked. The two of them were now staring at each other, holding the turkeys in their arms. "Cross-contamination. Pathogens. All sorts of things they didn't have in _your day_,"

"Did you really just use my upbringing as an excuse?" He raised an eyebrow at her mildly. "That's low, Nat. That's pretty damn low."

"Which is why you never want to argue with a-" Realizing what she was about to say, she clamped her mouth shut for the second time that day, instead plunking the frozen turkey into the cart.

"A what?" Steve asked, easily taking one frozen turkey out of the cart and replacing it with a fresh one. "A woman? Believe me, I've tried that."

"A Russian. Yeah-yeah, a Russian. Never argue with a Russian over turkey," was her weak response.

* * *

><p>"This isn't so hard," Tony muttered to himself, surveying the various ingredients spread out on the kitchen counter. "Bread, sausage, celery, rice, onions...how hard can it get?"<p>

He began to chop up the bread, throwing it into a large metal bowl, adding to it the sausage and onions, all the while mouthing the ingredients. "Barton can go to hell," he said confidently. "I'm not going to mess this up. This is absolutely impossible to mess up. Not like the damn potatoes. Nothing's going to fly out of the window, no siree..."

"Don't stir too hard now, Stark," Clint teased as he passed by, "You already broke a window. Let's not aim for two." Tony shot him the middle finger as he continued to stir the mass, glancing at the instructions. _Add milk_.

"Okay, milk." Retrieving the carton from the fridge, he poured the white liquid into the bread mixture until it was satisfactorily soggy, and went back to stirring.

"Um, Tony...? Are you sure it's supposed to be that...wet?" Bruce asked cautiously, peering into the bowl of meat and soggy bread Tony was now mixing with ease.

"I don't think so, actually," the billionaire declared, peering into the bowl himself. "I think it needs salt, and then it'll dry right up to the texture it needs to be. Just like chemistry!" He went over to the cabinet and pulled out the large container of salt-this time, he actually knew where it was-and shook some in. The white mush still looked soggy. "It'll dry up," he assured himself. "All I have to do is mix." A couple turns of the spoon later, he was right. "I _knew _I could cook!"

"Now to put it into the oven..." That was the easy part. He knew how to pre-heat an oven, and he knew how to put something in. Now, all that there was left to do was wait and hope that there would be at least _one _edible dish for Thanksgiving...

"How do you fare in your quest to create sustenance, Friend Stark?" Thor boomed, entering the kitchen some time later. Tony was hunched in front of the oven, watching the stuffing rise and bubble. He had to say, it was coming along quite well. Nothing had burned, and it actually resembled the dish in the picture the recipe depicted.

"Thirty seconds," Tony told him. "Then we'll see if I did this right." _Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one..._

"It is time!" Thor proclaimed, easily opening the oven and taking out the dish. Without oven mitts. Tony's mouth hung open at Thor's ease handling the dish.

"That's-Thor-a hot dish-"

"Nonsense, Friend Stark!" he answered cheerfully. "'Tis nothing, compared to the roasted game on Asgard."

"Alright, Stark's serving up the grub!" Clint exclaimed, suddenly appearing in the kitchen wielding a spoon. "Shall we have a grand taste?" His spoon hovered over the browned crust of the stuffing, still steaming from when Thor had taken it out of the oven.

"I'm in," Pepper waddled into the kitchen, retrieving a spoon from the cutlery drawer. "Everyone spoon in at the count of three? One, two, three!" She and Clint dug their spoons in for a hearty spoonful, gently blowing on their mass of stuffing before tipping it back into their mouths. Tony noticed that Clint did so with a slight look of apprehension.

It wasn't too long before Pepper swallowed painfully, plastering a smile onto her face for her husband's sake. "Wow, Tony, that's...interesting..."

"Yeah," Clint gasped, swallowing his own spoonful. "Definitely a new twist on stuffing." The two of them shared a look which instantly made Tony's stomach sink. He'd screwed up again, hadn't he?

"Alright, you two, what'd I do?"

"Tony, I think...you may or may not have used sugar instead of salt?" Pepper questioned gently. "Don't worry, anyone could make that mistake."

"Not the consistency of the stuffing, though." Clint, blunt as ever, scooped up another spoonful of stuffing. "Can I start a food fight with this mush?" He jokingly aimed at Tony, completely unintending to hit him, but did so anyways.

"Boys." Pepper's voice was reproachful. "Wait until I waddle out of the room."

"Yes, ma'am." As soon as she'd made it past the doorway, Tony scooped up a handful of the mushy stuffing and threw it at Clint, hitting him square in the face.

"PAYBACK'S A BITCH, ISN'T IT, BARTON?" he yelled before sprinting away. Clint's responding shot hit him square in the back, burning a square patch onto it and bringing Tony to the ground. "OW! MY BACK! I NEED A CHIROPRACTOR!"

* * *

><p>"Are we having stuffing?" Natasha bugged as Steve grabbed a number of stuffing loaves from the shelf. "I've never had stuffing," she babbled. "At most, I've had mush, because this family that I had to take out <em>tried<em> to make stuffing, and they left the oven on when we blew the house up-"

"Nat, are you sure _you_ haven't been brainwashed lately?" The cart was suddenly stopped, a concerned look on Steve's face as he turned to face the redhead. "You _never_ babble about missions. Hell, you don't even _babble_."

She swallowed, wanting to phrase her words carefully. There were some secrets that had to be kept for a reason. "I'm fine, Steve. It's just my first Thanksgiving, is all. I'm nervous. What if something happens? Tony's cooking is infamous, after all."

"But you gotta admit that he makes a decent...actually, never mind. That sentence doesn't exist." Steve shook his head as he wondered at his state of mind in which he actually considered Tony to have culinary skills. "Can you get the celery?" She made a face but went off anyways.

He sighed. Something had just been so..._off _about Natasha lately, although he couldn't put his finger on it. The babbling, the secrets...He'd asked her about it plenty of times, but knew her well enough to know when she was fronting. The truth was, he'd actually been a tiny bit serious if he'd asked her this morning if she was breaking up with him. Had she found someone else? Steve didn't think he could handle it if Natasha left him for someone else. Come to think of it, she _had _been spending a lot of time with Bruce lately...

Steve shook his head. Natasha would _never_ cheat on him with Bruce. He trusted the good doctor with his life. Surely, if something had happened, Bruce would've let him know.

"Got the celery," Natasha's mildly amused voice rang back into his ears as she dropped several plastic bags' worth of celery into the cart. "Saw May, too. Apparently she's going to try and cook for Coulson today." Her smile was absolutely infectious, and made Steve grin a bit, too. "If there's any state of it, May's cooking skills are even worse than mine."

"Natasha, you burnt cereal. Which, by the way, I still don't get. It's not physically possible."

"I only did it once. May's managed to make peanut butter and jelly spontaneously combust. She gives a whole new meaning to the words 'Homer cooking'." She rolled her eyes and attempted to peer over his shoulder for the next ingredient on the list, squirming a bit as she balanced on her tiptoes. At the somber look on his face, she paused a bit, her smile faltering. "Steve...you okay?"

"I'm fine," Two could play at the game of secrets. After all, he could think about it as an exercise at being undercover. Fury had told him multiple times that he'd been an awful liar. "Just thinking, that's all." _Had he been a good boyfriend lately? Okay, sure, there was that time he'd left the toilet seat up and everything, but that had ONLY been because he'd gotten back from a mission that had required him to act like a total bachelor... _"Now, I think we need some green beans..."

* * *

><p>"CRANBERRY SAUCE ACCOMPLISHED!" was the triumphant phrase that rang through the kitchen as Tony emptied the last can of cranberry sauce into the overly large dish bowl. "I did it, suckers!"<p>

"Dude. You opened fifty cans and put their contents into bowls." Clint was frowning. "Tell me what kind of culinary finesse that required, again?"

"It required skill with a can opener," Tony answered, miffed. "And also, superior measuring skills. You had to know how many cans of cranberry sauce fit into each bowl, lest you overflow a bowl and everything goes to shit."

"And how many cans to a bowl?" Clint deadpanned. "Do tell, before I kick the bucket from old age."

"Three cans to a bowl," Tony announced proudly, scooping up a bowl into his arms and heading towards the large table that had been set up the in the living room. Various places adorned the table, including a dinner plate resembling a shield for Steve, and one with an arc reactor for Tony. The first bowl made it onto the table just fine, for which Tony breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least, the baby would have cranberry sauce. That is, if Thor didn't eat it all first.

"Ah, shit." Clint muttered from the kitchen. Suddenly panicked that he'd ruined Tony's (sort of) hard effort, the man in question dashed into the kitchen, not failing to notice the small bit of cranberry sauce Clint had dropped onto the floor.

"Tony, look-" The archer was cut off by Tony slipping on the cranberry sauce, arms flailing as he tried to gain balance, sweeping one of them at all of the bowls, knocking them to the floor. He was suddenly on the tile floor covered in cranberry sauce, blinking as some of its acidity got into his eyes. "-out."

"TONY! WHAT HAPPENED?!" Upon seeing Tony on the floor covered in red, Bruce tore into the kitchen, collapsing onto his knees at the sight of the prone billionaire. "You're bleeding out! Did Clint accidentally shoot you or something?"

"I'm offended!" Clint exclaimed. "If I'd wanted to shoot him, I would've done it a _long _time ago!"

"It's just cranberry sauce," Tony coughed, having swallowed some of the gelatinous substance when he'd fallen. "I'm okay, Brucie."

"...at least we have _one _bowl of cranberry sauce," Pepper sighed from the dining room.

* * *

><p>"Can we get some kimchi?" Natasha inquired, startling Steve. She hadn't said a word since having gotten the celery, and since then, the two of them had gotten canned corn, butternut squash, and several cans of cranberry sauce. "I have a weird craving for kimchi."<p>

"Where would I even _find _that?" Steve wondered out loud, more to himself than to Natasha. She could feel the cold shoulder he was giving her, and despaired, trying to find out what she'd done wrong. "That sounds vaguely...Asian."

"Two aisles down," She pointed at the sign boasting all sorts of Asian foods, seaweed and kimchi included. "I'll get it," she told him, hurrying away.

She'd picked out the jar of kimchi some time ago, but had just needed some time to herself. _What did I do wrong? Was it something I said? Oh, God, what if it was that quip I made about the forties? I don't know why I said it, I just...what if he's mad at me for that? Shit. What if he's breaking up with me? Is that why he asked me that this morning? Does he want to leave me? I knew he was too good for me, _she lamented, sighing. _I'm so selfish to have kept him to myself. I bet he wants Hill. Or, wait, no, maybe it's Sharon..._

"Nat?" She turned to see Steve with a full cart, concern lacing his blue eyes. "You got the, uh..kim-chee? Is that how they say it?" His confused expression was so adorable she had to smile.

"I got it," she answered, gently placing the jar into the cart. "You got everything you need?"

_What if he knows?_

* * *

><p>"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..." Tony hurried into the kitchen to see black smoke billowing out of the oven. "Not the turkey, man! Not the turkey!" Wrenching the oven door open, he was greeted with the sight of a flaming turkey, setting off the wailing of the smoke alarms for the second time that day. "That's the second turkey today!"<p>

"Tony! Did you...ah, yes, you did," Bruce hurried in, hacking. "You burnt the bird again. Did you do what I told you to do yesterday?"

"I did!" he insisted, reaching for some oven mitts and mentally preparing himself to take the flaming food out of the belly of the beast. "I just had to take a quick bathroom break, and when I got back, the damn thing was on fire!" Panicking, he reached for the first liquid there was, intending to pour it over the bird to put out the flames.

"TONY, DON'T, THAT'S-"

But Tony had already poured the offending liquid over the turkey, and instead of putting out the flames, succeeded in sending them all over the kitchen. Luckily for them, at that moment, Clint arrived with a fire extinguisher, spraying it with abandon. Soon, Tony and Bruce were covered in foam, making it look like several birds had had attacks of diarrhea over the both of them.

"-Natasha's vodka. Oh, she's going to kill you when she gets back," Clint exclaimed gleefully.

"Well. We got covered in a bird's shit." Tony said. "Literally. I take it there's no more cooking today?"

"I'm going to go call Steve," Bruce answered, gingerly stepping in the foam, lest he slip and cover himself in foam _and _cranberry sauce. Tony just sighed.

* * *

><p>"Well, I'm glad we took the time to go to the supermarket," Steve told Natasha later on their floor, unloading the groceries they'd gotten. "Tony managed to scorch the entire kitchen. Looks like I'm the one cooking dinner." She simply nodded.<p>

"I'm going to go take a nap, if that's alright with you." Steve made an abstract motion, and she headed to the bedroom, shutting the door before finally beginning to silently sob into her pillow.

* * *

><p>"Wow, Steve, this looks great!" Pepper praised as Steve set the last of the prepared foods down onto the table, both of them already groaning under the weight of two birds, stuffing, and the various vegetables, not to mention the dish Bruce had conjured up with the failed taro. A sheet of plastic wrap had been stretched over the broken window, with an unspoken agreement not to speak of the incident. Tony's ego had been bruised enough already.<p>

"All I did was follow a recipe," he chuckled, grinning slightly. "It's not that hard, once you get past the cooking jargon..." He trailed off, looking out the window.

"You know I normally don't ask, but are you...did something...?" Pepper didn't press often, but when she did, the situation usually was past crisis point. "Is Nat...?"

"Nat? She's fine," Steve answered offhandedly, still refusing to look her in the face. "We just...at the supermarket today..." Sighing, he ran a hand through his blond hair. "Has she talked to you lately? About anything at all?" He finally turned to her, true worry etched onto his face. "Some other guy she's been really friendly with, for example...or, you know, another girl, that works just as well..."

"Um," Pepper choked slightly. "Unless you want to hear, for the hundredth time, I'm sure, about how all of the men in Admin are sexist jerks, then I'm not sure I can be of any assistance in that area..." She didn't mention how the fiery redhead had turned up one night when Tony had been in the lab pulling an all-nighter (which she'd been planning to kill him for), sobbing incoherently about something Pepper hadn't really understood. There were just some things that had to be kept secret.

A look of horror crossed Steve's face. He'd heard _that _story too many times to count. "No, thanks, Pepper. I'm good on that, though. But thanks."

"No problem." Natasha's rant on the Administration men was enough to scare any man. "Have you tried talking to her?"

"That's the thing," Steve ground out frustratedly. "She _won't_. Every time I try to ask something, she skitters away."

"I'm sure she'll tell you in due time," she assured him gently. "Right now, though, let's have food. I'm starved!" Right at that moment, there was a subtle _plop_, along with the sound of something dripping onto the floor. "Or not. I think my water just broke."

* * *

><p>"Okay, Pepper, we're at eight centimeters. Two more until we're going to start pushing," Bruce assured the sweaty CEO, who was gripping Tony's hand like it was the end of the world. "How are you feeling?"<p>

"I'm going to fucking CASTRATE you, Tony Stark!" Pepper exclaimed violently, cheeks flushed. "We are not having any more children in this fucking lifetime! You fucking hear me?!" Tony chuckled.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"I gotta say, Tony, you're holding up pretty well," Clint commented from the far end of the room they'd set up in the lab just for the purpose of the baby's birth. Pepper had insisted on giving birth at the tower, not 'trusting the doctors enough with the baby that's going to save the world one day'. "You looked like you were going to jump out of the window earlier." It was true. Tony had run a couple of circles around the table, run into the kitchen and had promptly slipped on cranberry sauce, rendering him unconscious for an hour until Natasha had poured ice water on him. Once he'd woken up, he'd panicked yet again, and hadn't shut up until Pepper had started screaming his name.

He chuckled exhaustedly. "It's going to be a long night."

"Nine centimeters, Pepper. Get ready."

"You shall be fine, Lady Pepper," Thor reassured her in his low baritone voice. "Think of the unconditional love you shall feel for your child once they emerge from the womb. It is unlike any other feeling in the world, I can assure you."

"Do we even want to know how he knows this?" Clint murmured to Tony, who smirked.

"What I want to know is how he's right," Pepper groaned, throwing her head back. "AAAGH!" The smirk on Tony's face was instantly replaced by a look of worry as he massaged his wife's knuckles soothingly, murmuring words of encouragement.

"Ten centimeters, Pepper!" Bruce exclaimed. "Here we go."

For the next couple of minutes, there was nothing but the sound of Pepper grunting as she struggled to push out the baby. Each Avenger watched with bated breath, save for Bruce, who wore a look of total determination like no one had ever seen.

Even in their discordant state, Steve couldn't help but think of Natasha in that moment. He knew as well as she did that they wouldn't be able to have children, something he was eternally grateful for. He would've hated to pass on his messed-up genes to any descendants. But one day, he hoped for a child that they could love and care for, just like Pepper and Tony would have soon.

Natasha watched the proceedings with a look of apprehension and nervousness. Pepper seemed to be going to through hell. Once again, the human body never ceased to amaze her with its wonders (okay, so maybe most of those wonders came in the form of Steve Rogers,) at how Pepper was managing the pain without passing out.

"One last push, and you're going to meet your new baby!" Bruce called to Pepper, who immediately gave the biggest push she'd given all night, her vocal cords giving out as she screamed hoarsely. Soon, the cry of a newborn baby could be heard as Bruce cut the various cords, swaddling the baby in a blanket. "Congratulations, you two! It's a girl!" He began to strip off his gloves, disposing of them in a wastebasket. "The rest of you, get out. Let them have their moment." One by one, the five of them filed out of the room.

* * *

><p>"So, I think some congratulatory champagne is in order," Clint announced, bringing out a bottle he'd stashed in the lab fridge earlier. He popped the cork, Bruce already reaching for the flutes. "To the new girl!" The four men clinked glasses, Natasha having declined the alcohol, wistfully eyeing it instead.<p>

"You sure you don't want any, Nat?" Steve asked as he sipped from his flute. "Normally, you'd be hitting the vodka pretty heavily by now..."

She snorted gracefully (how did anyone _do _that?) and settled further back into her chair. "Even if there _was _vodka, I wouldn't be able to drink it for a while,"

Clint dropped the bottle in surprise, it shattering on the floor.

"Aw, come on, Barton, that was a decent bottle of-what's happened?" Tony came out, wheeling Pepper and his child. He looked from each Avenger, from Clint's shocked faces to Thor and Steve's puzzled ones. "What's happened?"

"Well, for one, Natasha refused alcohol," Steve said mulishly. "And now she's telling us she won't be able to drink vodka for a while." Comprehension dawned on Pepper's face, and she squealed in joy, careful not to wake her newborn child.

"Congrats, Nat!" Natasha smiled softly, curling up onto her knees. "If I weren't in this stupid wheelchair, I'd be hugging you right now. To death, I assure you."

"Would someone mind telling us what's going on?" Tony demanded, breaking their moment. "There are quite a few of us who'd like to know here."

"Tony, do you remember how I told you I was pregnant?" Pepper asked quietly.

"I took out a bottle of Chantis and you said you-" A large grin broke out onto Tony's face. "Congratulations, Natashalie."

"And for that, I won't kill you. Just this once," Natasha murmured back, feeling giddy that her secret was now semi-out in the open.

"Congrats," Clint echoed, still in shock. He turned to Bruce, who was nursing a little grin of his own. "Banner, you sneaky bastard. How long have you known?"

"About a month or so," Bruce answered sheepishly. "I was expressly threatened not to tell anyone until everyone else knew."

"Many congratulations, Lady Natasha," Thor boomed, Clint having clued the god in while Pepper had been squealing. "I am sure he or she will be quite worthy."

"He-she-what?" Steve squeaked. He quickly turned to Natasha, shock on his face. "You're not-it can't be-I thought it was impossible-"

She grinned. "Surprise?" At the look on his face, she relented, "I would've told you sooner, Steve, I really would've, but I wanted to know whether the baby was okay and..."

"Is _that _why you've been avoiding me and spending so much time with Bruce?" She nodded. "Geez, I thought you were going to leave me for him!" He shook his head. "It actually makes sense, now...Did he say the baby was okay?"

"Completely healthy," Bruce answered cheerfully. "She'll be due in eight months." He frowned at Steve mockingly. "Really? You thought she'd leave _you _for _me_?"

"To be fair, I thought he was going to leave _me_." Natasha confessed quietly, and all eyes turned to her. "I know it's irrational, but I just thought..."

"_Natasha._" Steve swept her up into his arms, cradling her into his shoulder. "I will _never _leave you. _Ever._ You got that? Especially with this baby."

"We've got another baby Avenger on the way," Clint said in shock. Then he buried his head in his hands. "Oh, damn. Another nine months of pregnancy hormones. Tasha's going to make Pepper look like Baby Jesus."

Natasha swiped at his head. "Shut up, Barton. We're looking for a baby from you and Morse soon."

"To the baby, and the new one!" Bruce proposed, and everyone raised a toast.

"To babies!"

* * *

><p><strong>And so ends another installment...Please review? The winner gets the Thanksgiving meal Steve cooked! And the butternut squash is DESTINED to be good. I'll PM you should you win! :) And, also, let me know if you want to see that crossover :D It's a FrozenCaptain America crossover...yeah, I know. My brain works weirdly. **

**I'm planning to put these on Ao3...just in case you guys wanted it there :) It's a slow process, but I'll get it done xD See you guys next Saturday!**


	17. The Powerpuff Girls

**And so we go into the first week of December...this is going to be an absolutely _joyful _month. Two concerts, a triple performance...oh, absolute fun. Best get my rest before next year, though. It all goes down starting in January. **

**Shoutout to RomanogersWhovian, Megan750, and GeekyChic123 for following! :)**

**SINGLENESS TIME. I've got a VERY important Romanogers chappie coming up, ehehehehe :)**

* * *

><p>"You seen Stark?" Steve questioned Clint as he fended off yet another mutated rat trying to bite into his shoulder with his shield. Currently, the super soldier and archer were standing back to back, the former whacking at the rodents while the latter simply shot at them with a dwindling supply of arrows.<p>

"Nope," Clint answered shortly, this time sinking an arrow into a rat trying to eat his leg. "He was supposed to be here with backup half an hour ago. Nat!" he called across the field to the spy, who was shooting rats with a hypnotizing grace known only to the Black Widow, the furry monstrosities dropping faster than one could say 'Squeak'. "You seen Stark?"

"I wish I had, so I could kick his metal ass," she yelled back, effortlessly dispatching another round of rats. "Where are all these damned rats coming from? The Fire Swamp?" Steve would've been surprised if the moment had afforded it. Finally, _someone _who felt comfortable casually referencing _The Princess Bride_! He'd watched it a couple of days prior to the mission and couldn't help connecting it to everything that he saw.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but Stark had better hurry up!" Clint groaned as he fired his last arrow into a rat, having to resort to fight with the knives stashed on his person. "Who's up for the 'Let's kick Stark's ass' club meeting after this?" A dead rat came flying over his head, courtesy of Thor swinging his hammer into it.

"I shall not be quite pleased with Friend Stark after this altercation," he rumbled, disposing of yet another five rats at the speed Natasha had taken out one. "I would like to be a part of this club you are proposing."

"Natashalie and gentlemen, have no fear!" Tony's voice could be heard from far out even as he fired his repulsors at the various rats. "The Powerpuff Girls are here!" The _Powerpuff Girls _theme song began to blast from his speakers as he continued to take out rats, sometimes blasting to the beat of the song.

_Blossom, commander and the leader_

_Bubbles, well she's the joy and the laughter_

_Buttercup, well she's the strongest fighter_

_Powerpuffs save the day_

_Fighting crime, trying to save the world_

_Here they come just in time..._

_The Powerpuff Girls!_

"Someone tell me one, what this song is, and two, why Tony's playing it?" Steve wondered casually as he collided his shield with the last rat, allowing himself to turn around and help Clint take out even more. "Is this some thing that I missed while I was in the ice?"

"Right in one," Clint huffed as he was about to hurl a knife at a rat, only to be saved by Steve slicing it in half with his shield. "Didn't know you could do that,"

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Stealing my line, are we, Captain?" Natasha smirked as she kicked the living crap out of another rat, shaking the blood off of her boot. "I think Stark can handle the downfield part of the rats. I don't know about you guys, but I'm done here." Thor agreed nonverbally as he swung another rat in Tony's direction. "This calls for a good amount of food and alcohol. As well as a discussion with Stark on his choice of theme songs. Just what are the Powerpuff Girls?"

Clint stared at her in horror.

* * *

><p>"Okay, the fact that <em>no one <em>in this tower seems to know who the Powerpuff Girls are calls into question the serious effects of our attempts at education," Tony announced, plunking down several bottles of beer, sparkling apple juice (they happened to be Steve's preferred drink of the week,) and an unidentifiable bottle of Russian vodka. "So Birdbrain and I have decided that we are all going to get drunk, watch _Powerpuff Girls_, and then attempt to assign roles. Sound fair?"

"If alcohol's involved, I'm in," Natasha made a grab for the translucent bottle. "I haven't had this stuff in ages." It was true-mostly because Tony had locked the door to the alcohol storage with a pass code Natasha had yet to crack. He'd finally had enough when Thor had found her hanging off of the roof with nothing but a bungee cord, screaming at imaginary unicorns.

"_The city of Townsville!"_

* * *

><p>"Seriously, Steve, there's no doubt about it," Tony slurred, slumped over with a bottle of beer in his hand. "You, my friend, are Bubbles. You are Bubbles, through and through." He let out a half-cheer as said superhero beat up a red twenty-eyed monster, screaming while she did it. "It's not a bad thing, you know. You get a sonic scream, electric forces, laser beams...not to mention that you already have superhuman strength. What else could you ask for?"<p>

"You forgot to mention the extreme love of all things cute, fluffy, and a hatred for cruelty," Clint wagged a bottle at Tony disapprovingly. "Cap loves everyone. Well, most of the time," he amended when Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. "And he's the nicest one."

"I say that's arguable," Tony protested as he took another swig of beer. "Do you all not forgo paying rent on this tower, month after month?"

"I insisted on paying rent, Tony," Steve answered mildly, sipping at his juice. "You just refused it." To tell the truth, he didn't mind being the nice and cuddly one. As long as it came with the sonic screams, he was good. The laser beams wouldn't be a bad touch, either.

"I believe you are all missing an important factor that links Friend Rogers to Bubbles," Thor added loudly, quaffing half of Natasha's vodka as she winced. "They are both blonde, are they not?" There was a chorus of 'ohhhh' and 'true, true' from the drunken party, most of them from Clint and Tony.

"That's settled then. Cap's Bubbles!" Tony announced.

"Doesn't that make you Blossom, then?" Steve inquired, as the redheaded five-year-old proceeded to lecture both of her sisters, the flow of words clearly emanating from the speakers. "The know-it-all who likes bossing people around?"

"Clearly he has the hair for it," Clint snickered, and just like that, he and Natasha were rolling on the floor laughing. Tony frowned at the both of them, considering whether he wanted to throw his drink at them. He decided against it in the end, settling for shoving Clint in the shoulder.

"It is possible," Thor mused. "His suit is red, like her hair, as well as his constant display of his excessive knowledge being a factor. However, I feel I must add that while Blossom only displays occasional arrogance, Friend Stark's comes in abundance. As well as the qualities of leadership." That made Tony stop.

"Hey!"

"Don't complain, Stark," Natasha snorted, finally having found the strength to get off of Clint. "You're the one who gets to have ice breath. Then again," she muttered, stealing her bottle of vodka back from Thor, "not that it was considered an extra power in the first place,"

"I get fire breath too!" Tony protested.

"Also not an added trait," Clint interjected helpfully, cracking open another bottle of beer. "Face it, Stark, the only thing you _really _get from Blossom that's new is the laser eye beams. And that's until you invent something in your suit that'll allow that. Take Blossom and shut up." The five of them went silent, watching the girls beat up various monsters and the occasional villain, until Steve piped up,

"Then who's Buttercup?"

Every eye turned towards Natasha. She looked shocked at the conclusion, almost dropping her bottle of vodka. "_Me_? Why me?"

"You refuse to give up," Steve began.

"You're particularly violent," Tony added. She kicked him. "See what I mean?"

"You possess the fastest speed of any of us," Thor acknowledged, nodding. "And last of all, but certainly not least, Lady Natasha, you may have an outer shell, but your heart is made of gold."

Natasha bit her lip. Could she really be a superhero? Fictional or not, to even be compared to one was still outside of her comfort zone. Her past was anything but heroic. No way she shared anything in common with the black-haired character. Although, she mused with a small grin as Buttercup took down a villain with nothing but a single kick, being the superhero did have its perks. "Yeah. I guess I am Buttercup."

"She gets to be Buttercup! He gets to be Bubbles!" Clint gestured madly at Steve and Natasha. "Who do I get to be? Utonium? Mayor? Anyone good?"

It took a few more episodes for the five of them to agree on a consensus, after wholeheartedly making the decision that Bruce was most definitely Professor Utonium ("It's like having a father again," Tony had sobbed. "Man does like his chemicals," Steve mused.) that Clint was meant to be no one other than Fuzzy Lumpkins.

"I doth protest!" Clint exclaimed as the vote was sealed by a loud 'DUH' from Natasha. "There's no way I'm meant to be..." He shuddered as the villain, fuzzy, fat, and armed with a shotgun, tried to dissuade trespassers from his property. "..._him_."

"Mm, fat, pink, fuzzy, and territorial about anyone who gets near the vents?" Tony asked. "Yeah, I'd say that's you in about five years. Without donuts. Add in the donuts and I'll shave it to three."

"Not to mention those five hundred something animals running around the vents," Steve muttered. "I swear you've picked those up from every mission we've been on."

"I know," Natasha muttered darkly, although there was no denying the adoration in her tone. "I found a bunny last week. Almost shot it, thinking it was a rat."

"Did it have blue eyes and a twitchy little nose?" Clint demanded, suddenly _very _sober. "Did it, Tasha, did it?"

"Don't all bunnies have blue eyes and a twitchy nose?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "No? Then yes."

"You found Cuddles!" Clint enveloped her in a hug that was entirely offset by his drunkenness, one that Tony and Steve were sure he would've given even if he _had _been sober. "I can't believe you found Cuddles!"

Steve choked on his juice for the first time that night. "Clint...are you sure _you're _not Bubbles?"

* * *

><p>"No, no, no, no, no," Bruce muttered as he entered the kitchen to muffled shouting from the vents. "It's too early for this."<p>

"I'm still sporting the hangover to go with it," Tony affirmed, holding his head in his hands. "Is it morning already?"

"GIT OFFA MAH PROPERTY!" There was an explosion, followed by a _very _disheveled Steve stalking into the kitchen. Black soot covered his hair, along with the occasional smudge on his face. His pajamas were completely singed, the sleeve still burning.

"Does someone want to tell me why, when I opened my vent cover this morning to stop the flow of heat coming in, the entire thing blew up and Clint started shouting in a hillbilly accent?"

"Clint's got vental PMS again," Natasha announced, her hands thrown into the air as she came into the kitchen, her normally unruffled hair sticking in every which direction. Tony opened his mouth to comment, but was cut short at her pointed statement. "Stark. Don't. Even."

"Not the vental PMS again," Bruce's head hit the table. "I thought we were over that."

"Must be the fact that there are about...oh, five hundred bunnies in his vent?" Steve scowled, shaking a bunny from his sleeve. It hopped onto the counter and began to munch on Tony's waffles, giving a little squeak of excitement. "And that Clint's refused to give away none of them?"

"I tried to persuade him!" Tony insisted loudly. "And he wouldn't listen!"

"Since when has _anything _you've tried to convince Clint of ever _worked_?" Natasha asked. The bunny had hopped over to her by then, beginning to nuzzle her elbow. She turned her gaze to the bunny, expression quickly melting into adoration. "Aw, he's so cute!"

Tony's jaw dropped open. "Is it my hangover, or did Natashalie just call something _cute_?"

A knife just barely missed his fingers. "Never mind. Just the hangover then."

"I'll try and return him," Steve assured, scooping the bunny deftly out of Natasha's reach before she could kill it. "Hopefully I can try and get Clint out of the vents, too."

* * *

><p>"Clint?" Steve called cautiously, sticking his head up into the vent from his bedroom. It was free from any booby traps, he assured himself. Any traps that had been set there he'd set off this morning. "Clint, where are you?"<p>

"I'd suggest you get your head out of my vents," a low voice sounded, and Clint emerged from the darkness, holding three bunnies in his arms. "Unless you want your head to be lopped off." Steve gulped. The archer didn't seem to be playing around.

"I brought a peace offering," he offered nervously, slowly raising the bunny into the vent. "Come on, Clint, you gotta come out of the vents. I'm sorry Tony tried to convince you to give the bunnies away, and I promise you won't have to give back any of them, just...come out of the vents, Clint, c'mon. Natasha's worried about you, too." Silently, he said his prayers that the red-headed assassin wouldn't kill him afterwards.

Clint was silent, weighing the options of coming out of the vents. They probably involved having to eat food, Tony's continued bothering (which he _really _couldn't deal with today,) and Natasha's teasing on owning all of those bunnies. Nope. He considered activating the trap that would send Steve to the Hulk containment chamber, but decided against it. The man hadn't tried to bother him, after all. _And _he'd brought back the bunny...As the fluffy creature scampered towards him, he was glad to see it was Cuddles, the bunny who'd been missing for the last couple of hours. Finally, he looked at Steve, the fear glinting in his blue eyes even though he was half-dark. "Don't try to get the bunny back. Just get out, quickly, before I change my mind and decide to send you to the Hulk containment chamber."

Steve didn't need telling twice. His head disappeared from the opening, the covering quickly shoved back into place.

"You're up, Tony," he said to the billionaire leaning against his bedroom wall. "And should I even ask how you got in here?"

* * *

><p>"So, Legolas, you really should get out of the vents because I need someone to test those new arrowheads and Natashalie really can't shoot a damn and you're the only one who's actually going to need them and plus Thor's getting really riled up about this show called <em>Adventure Time <em>and I have no idea what the hell that means and-oh, Steve's making cake!"

Tony had initially jumped into the vents, planning to talk endlessly until the archer got annoyed and came out of the vents just to shut him up, but quickly clamped his mouth shut when he saw Clint advancing towards him.

"You think he's doing okay up there?" Steve asked Natasha in the kitchen, as both of them stared worriedly up at the vents, waiting for Tony to come down. "I mean, nothing's blown up yet, and JARVIS would've told us if Tony had died..."

"As a matter of fact, Sir, it is in my protocol that Miss Potts be notified first should Master Stark come to an unlikely demise," JARVIS chimed in from the speaker. "But I can assure you, he has not yet deceased."

"See, even JARVIS knows that Tony has a chance of dying up there," Natasha snorted, rolling her eyes. "I told you you should've sent me up there. Remind me why we decided to send Stark first."

"We wanted to avoid all violence possible," Steve sighed, running his hands through his hair. "If we send you in, Natasha, you're going to blow something up, regardless of whether we've told you to or not. We're trying to get Clint out of the vents, not blow up the tower." He paused. "At least, not so soon after Tony finished rebuilding the thirty-second floor."

There was a loud THUMP, and Tony's scream travelled down the vent, fading away as Steve, Natasha and Thor hurried to try and follow it.

"Master Stark has been deposited into the Hulk containment chamber, Sir," JARVIS assisted helpfully. "And Master Barton wishes to inform you that should you attempt to send anyone else up to intervene for the remainder of the day, he will dispose of them in a similar manner."

"Like I said," Clint drawled, sticking his blonde head out of the vent cover, a bunny holding on for dear life by a couple of strands. "_Git. Offa. Mah. Property._" He brought his head back up, reaching out an arm to catch the bunny that had suddenly been left without a hold, pulling that back up too.

Natasha squared her shoulders. "I'm going in."

* * *

><p>"Looks like they finally decided to leave me alone, didn't they, Mr. Fluffernutter?" Clint cooed to the bunny, who squeaked in agreement and burrowed into his neck. "Yes, they did, the bunny-wanting bastards," he muttered. "I'm keeping all of you to myself. Goodness knows that none of them are able to take care of pets properly." One of the bunnies nudged his knee, and Clint reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a baby carrot and feeding it to the bunny. "There you go, Nutella. You like your carrots, don't you? And I wonder why I named you after chocolate spread."<p>

_Creak_.

"Turns out they decided not to leave me alone after all," he muttered, his mood instantly souring. There was only one person that had the audacity to try and sneak into his vents through stealth. "Give yourself up, Tasha," he called, scowling at the far end of the vent. "I know it's you."

There was no response. Clint had to hand it to the spy. She, true to her Powerpuff persona, never gave up. But still. It was another second before the vents creaked again, followed by a whispered Russian curse. Clint slowly drew his bow, pushing his bunnies behind him so they wouldn't be part of the casualties.

"My name is Clint Barton," he whispered. "You go into my vents. Prepare to die."

* * *

><p>THUD.<p>

"My guess? She's headed to the same place as Tony," Bruce sighed. "They're going to kill each other within five minutes."

"Enough with this nonsense, Barton!" Thor, suddenly enraged, swung his hammer at the ceiling, causing the entire vent to rattle with the force of the strike. "You descend from these metal mazes right this moment!" Several bunnies rained out of the various vent openings, Steve and Bruce's faces contorting in horror as they fell the great height.

"THE BUNNIES!" they shrieked in unison. Steve ran to the left and Bruce to the right, each of them attempting to catch as many bunnies as possible. They came in every color-brown, black, white, and every shade in between. The relief on Steve's face was palpable as the bunnies stopped raining from the ceiling, and several bunnies sniffed up at him inquisitively. Bruce was looking a little more than nervous as he cradled a good number of bunnies in his arms, many of them whimpering.

"I think they're injured," Bruce whispered, so as not to upset them. "We'll have to put them in medical care."

"The poor little babies," Steve agreed, leaning down to nuzzle them. Several of them nuzzled back, giving him little bunny kisses. Had Natasha been there for the moment, she would've been laughing her ass off, too amused to take pictures. The great Captain America, disarmed by bunnies. Who would've thought? He began to make his way to the elevator. "I'll bring these ones to the lab and get them settled."

"Make sure you put them in the Tony-proof chamber," Bruce called as the elevator door slid shut. Steve's parting answer was a waved hand. It was now just Thor, Bruce, and a whole load of bunnies versus a pissed off Clint. Seeing as Bruce was the only one left who hadn't tried a tactic, he said to Thor, "Thor, do you think you could take the bunnies?"

Thor walked over to Bruce, easily scooping the remaining bunnies into his cape. To his delight, they immediately began to squirm, attempting to scrabble around in the soft material. "What cute Midgardian creatures!" Of course, at that, all movement stopped as the bunnies burrowed into each other, scared of the large, booming voice.

"...and I think you've only traumatized them more," Bruce muttered, then said to the god, "Take them to Steve in my lab. He'll know what to do with them." Thor nodded his assent and started off for the elevator, making sure to talk to the bunnies in a soothing voice. As soon as the door shut once again, Bruce defiantly faced the ceiling.

"Just you and me, Barton," he said, spreading his palms up. "Time to throw punches."

"What kind of punches can you pull, Bruce?" Clint's voice was muffled. "You can't pull anything without the Other Guy coming out. And I know that your containment chamber's a little occupied at the moment, so unless you want to be responsible for _more _repairs, I don't see what you can do."

"Clinton Francis Barton, you get your ass down here or I swear to Thor I will blast the Powerpuff Girls theme song from every speaker you have in those damn vents." Bruce threatened through clenched teeth. "You have until three."

"And if I don't get down?" The archer's voice was no less snarky, but held the slightest tinge of fear. Good. Someone was finally getting to him.

Bruce simply pushed the button.

_BLOSSOM! COMMANDER AND THE LEADER_

_BUBBLES! WELL, SHE'S THE JOY AND THE LAUGHTER_

_BUTTERCUP! WELL, SHE'S THE STRONGEST FIGHTER_

_POWERPUFFS SAVE THE DAY_

_FIGHTING CRIME, TRYING TO SAVE THE WORLD_

_HERE THEY COME JUST IN TIME_

_THE POWERPUFF GIRRRLLLSSS!_

True to his word, the theme some began blaring from the speakers. More bunnies began their descent from the vents, distressing Bruce even more than before to try to catch them as Steve wasn't there. He caught the first three with a squeak, but after that, they were hitting the floor with alarming regularity, too shocked to move after having their first initial meeting with the linoleum. Bruce quickly scooped them up and placed them into a cage, working as rapidly as he could while the song was still blaring.

_FIGHTING CRIME, TRYING TO SAVE THE WORLD_

_HERE THEY COME JUST IN TIME..._

_THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!_

_POWERPUFF!_

"I YIELD!" came Clint's agonized shout. "I YIELD! JUST DON'T HURT MR. FLUFFERNUTTER!" He immediately dropped from the vents, and Bruce shut off the song, leaving blessed silence in the room for the first time in what felt like ages. The archer was disheveled, the aftereffects of a hangover clearly present.

"Ah. You've returned, Master Barton," JARVIS echoed, surprised. "Miss Romanoff wishes to inform you that she and Sir are about to engage in sparring in the Hulk containment chamber, and that you should be in attendance." Clint's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Stark versus Tasha?" he exclaimed. "I am SO in!" He hurried off to the elevator, hangover forgotten, leaving Bruce alone with at least a good hundred bunnies, some of which were becoming desensitized to their shock and were now beginning to explore the living room.

"...so it looks like I'm supposed to deal with the bunnies, apparently..." Just then, one of them hopped onto his arm. "You're not all that bad. I think I'll name you Hulkey..."

* * *

><p>By the time Clint had reached the Hulk containment chamber, visibly shaking with excitement at the thought of a battle between the two biggest tempers in the tower (excluding Bruce, of course), Natasha had already had Tony pinned to the ground. Steve and Thor were in the corner, Steve grinning as he counted the money in his hand.<p>

"Took you long enough," she smirked at him. "I took him down ten minutes ago."

"And she STILL hasn't let me up!" Tony groaned, his face smushed against the floor. "Capsicle bet against me, too," he grumbled. "How was I to know that you couldn't summon a suit through Hulk-proof glass?"

"Apparently, a fight between Tony and Natasha's been the subject of a pretty decent betting pool," Steve admitted, waving a wad of cash at him. "This is just from the agents who had the proper clearance to witness the fight."

"WHAT'S THIS ABOUT THE BUNNIES?" Phil Coulson stormed into the room, the anger mottling his face an ugly purple. "We run an agency, not a pet shelter, dammit! I've got every agent I know asking for one of Barton's bunnies!"

Tony weakly raised an unpinned arm to point at Clint. "It's all his fault!"

* * *

><p><strong>Those poor bunnies. Up for adoption! One (or all of them) goes to the best reviewer! And to those guests that leave the COOLEST reviews, make an account so I can actually give you a prize! Because truly, the guests are the ones who are leaving the best reviews, right now. And that's saying something. <strong>

**See you guys next Saturday! :D**


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